- 


OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  AHGELES 


The 
Intrusions  of  Peggy 

&  Botoel 


by 
ANTHONY    HOPE 


Illustrated 


NEW   YORK   AND   LONDON 

HARPER     &     BROTHERS 

PUBLISHERS     1902 


Copyright,  1901,  by  ANTHONY  HOPB  HAWKINS. 


All  rights  reserved. 
Published  October,  1902. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  LIFE  is  RECOMMENDED i 

II.  COMING  NEAR  THE  FIRE 13 

III.  IN  DANES  INN 26 

IV.  FROM  THE  MIDST  OF  THE  WHIRL 41 

V.  THE  WORLD  RECALCITRANT 55 

VI.  CHILDREN  OF  SHADOW 71 

VII.  A  DANGEROUS  GAME 86 

VIII.  USURPERS  ON  THE  THRONE 101 

IX.  BRUISES  AND  BALM 117 

X.  CONCERNING  A  CERTAIN  CHINA  VASE     ...  132 

XI.  THE  MIXTURE  AS  BEFORE 146 

XII.  HOT  HEADS  AND  COOL 161 

XIII.  JUSTIFICATION  NUMBER  FOUR 177 

XIV.  A  HOUSE  OF  REFUGE 193 

XV.  NOT  EVERYBODY'S  FOOTBALL 208 

XVI.  MORAL  LESSONS 224 

XVII.  THE  PERJURER 239 

XVIII.  AN  AUNT— AND  A  FRIEND 256 

XIX.  No  MORE  THAN  A  GLIMMER 272 

XX.  PURELY  BUSINESS 290 

XXI.  THE  WHIP  ON  THE  PEG 307 

XXII.  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  IT 325 

XXIII.  THE  LAST  KICK 343 

XXIV.  To  THE  SOUL  SHOP 358 

XXV.  RECONCILIATION 376 


2130271 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  THEY  DRANK  BEER  TOGETHER  ON  THE  BOU- 
LEVARDS " Frontispiece 

"  '  TIMES  ARE  HARD,  BUT  THE  HEART  IS  LIGHT, 

AIREY  '" Facing  p.  28 

"A  VERY  KINDLY  NOTE  TO  MR.  FRICKER  " .       "       IOO 
"  AFTER   A    MOMENT'S   HESITATION    MERVYN 

FOLLOWED  HIM  " "  l68 

"  '  AND  LAY  ON  THE  TABLE  FOUR  THOUSAND 

POUNDS  '  " "  234 

"  AT  THIS  MOMENT  PEGGY  RYLE  OPENED  THE 

DOOR  " "  244 

"  '  DON'T  GO!'  HE  SAID,  IN  A  PEREMPTORY  YET 

HALF-STIFLED  WHISPER  " "  278 

"  '  FORGIVE  ME,  DEAR,  FORGIVE  ME,'  PEGGY 

MURMURED  " "          350 


THE   INTRUSIONS  OF  PEGGY 


LIFE  IS  RECOMMENDED 

THE  changeful  April  morning  that  she  watched  from 
the  window  of  her  flat  looking  over  the  river  began 
a  day  of  significance  in  the  career  of  Trix  Trevalla — of 
feminine  significance,  almost  milliner's,  perhaps,  but 
of  significance  all  the  same.  She  had  put  off  her 
widow's  weeds,  and  for  the  first  time  these  three  years 
back  was  dressed  in  a  soft  shade  of  blue ;  the  harmony 
of  her  eyes  and  the  gleams  of  her  brown  hair  wel- 
comed the  color  with  the  cordiality  of  an  old  friendship 
happily  renewed.  Mrs.  Trevalla's  maid  had  been  all 
in  a  flutter  over  the  momentous  transformation;  in 
her  mistress  it  bred  a  quietly  retrospective  mood.  As 
she  lay  in  an  arm-chair  watching  the  water  and 
the  clouds,  she  turned  back  on  the  course  of  her 
life,  remembering  many  things.  The  beginning  of 
a  new  era  brought  the  old  before  her  eyes  in  a  pro- 
testing flash  of  vividness.  She  abandoned  herself  to 
recollections  —  an  insidious  form  of  dissipating  the 
mind,  which  goes  well  with  a  relaxed  ease  of  the  body. 
Not  that  Mrs.  Trevalla's  recollections  were  calcu- 
lated to  promote  a  sense  of  luxury,  unless  indeed  they 
were  to  act  as  a  provocative  contrast. 

I 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF   PEGGY 

There  was  childhood,  spent  in  a  whirling  succession 
of  lodging-houses.  They  had  little  individuality  and 
retained  hardly  any  separate  identity;  each  had  con- 
sisted of  two  rooms  with  folding  -  doors  between,  and 
somewhere,  at  the  back  or  on  the  floor  above,  a  cup- 
board for  her  to  sleep  in.  There  was  the  first  baby, 
her  brother,  who  died  when  she  was  six ;  he  had  been 
a  helpless,  clinging  child,  incapable  of  living  without 
far  more  sympathy  and  encouragement  than  he  had 
ever  got.  Luckily  she  had  been  of  hardier  stuff. 
There  was  her  mother,  a  bridling,  blushing,  weak-kneed 
woman  (Trix's  memory  was  candid) ;  kind  save  when 
her  nerves  were  bad,  and,  when  they  were,  unkind  in  a 
weak  and  desultory  fashion  that  did  not  deserve  the 
name  of  cruelty.  Trix  had  always  felt  less  anger  than 
contempt  for  her  half-hysterical  outbursts,  and  bore  no 
malice  on  their  account.  This  pale  visitor  soon  faded 
— as,  indeed,  Mrs.  Trevalla  herself  had — into  non-exist- 
ence, and  a  different  picture  took  its  place.  Here  was 
the  Reverend  Algernon,  her  father,  explaining  that  he 
found  himself  unsuited  to  pastoral  work  and  indisposed 
to  adopt  any  other  active  calling;  that  inadequate 
means  were  a  misfortune,  not  a  fault ;  that  a  man  must 
follow  his  temperament,  and  that  he  asked  only  to  be 
allowed  to  go  his  own  way — he  did  not  add  to  pay  it — 
in  peace  and  quiet.  His  utterances  came  back  with 
the  old  distinction  of  manner  and  the  distant  polite- 
ness with  which  Mr.  Trevalla  bore  himself  towards  all 
disagreeable  incidents  of  life — under  which  head  there 
was  much  reason  to  surmise  that  he  ranked  his 
daughter. 

Was  he  unjust  in  that?  Trix  was  puzzled.  She 
recalled  a  sturdy,  stubborn,  rather  self-assertive  child; 
the  freshness  of  delicacy  is  rubbed  off,  the  appeal  of 
shyness  silenced,  by  a  hand-to-mouth  existence,  by  a 

2 


habit  of  regarding  the  leavings  of  the  first-floor  lodger 
in  the  light  of  windfalls,  by  constant  Sittings  unmarked 
by  the  discharge  of  obligations  incurred  in  the  aban- 
doned locality,  by  a  practical  outlawry  from  the  class 
to  which  we  should  in  the  ordinary  course  belong. 
Trix  decided  that  she  must  have  been  an  unattractive 
girl,  rather  hard,  too  much  awake  to  the  ways  of  the 
world,  readily  retorting  its  chilliness  towards  her.  All 
this  was  natural  enough,  since  neither  death  nor  pov- 
erty nor  lack  of  love  was  strange  to  her.  Natural, 
yes;  pleasant,  no,  Trix  concluded,  and  with  that  she 
extended  a  degree  of  pardon  to  Mr.  Trevalla.  He  had 
something  to  say  for  himself.  With  a  smile  she  re- 
called what  he  always  did  say  for  himself,  if  any  one 
seemed  to  challenge  the  spotlessness  of  his  character. 
On  such  painful  occasions  he  would  mention  that  he 
was,  and  had  been  for  twenty  years,  a  teetotaler.  There 
were  reasons  in  the  Trevalla  family  history  which  made 
the  fact  remarkable;  in  its  owner's  eyes  the  virtue  was 
so  striking  and  enormous  that  it  had  exhausted  the 
moral  possibilities  of  his  being,  condemned  other  ex- 
cellences to  atrophy,  and  left  him,  in  the  flower-show 
of  graces,  the  self-complacent  exhibitor  of  a  single 
bloom. 

Yet  he  had  become  a  party  to  the  great  conspiracy; 
it  was  no  less,  however  much  motives  of  love  and  hopes 
ever  sanguine  might  excuse  it  in  one  of  the  parties  to 
it — not  the  Reverend  Algernon.  They  had  all  been 
involved  in  it — her  father,  old  Lady  Trevalla  (her  hus- 
band had  been  a  soldier  and  K.C.B.),  Vesey  Trevalla 
himself.  Vesey  loved  Trix,  Lady  Trevalla  loved  Vesey 
in  a  mother's  conscienceless  way ;  the  mother  persuad- 
ed herself  that  the  experiment  would  work,  the  son  would 
not  stop  to  ask.  The  Reverend  Algernon  presumably 
persuaded  himself  too — and  money  was  very  scarce. 

3 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF  PEGGY 

So  Trix  was  bidden  to  notice — when  those  days  at 
Bournemouth  came  back  to  mind  her  brows  contracted 
into  a  frown  as  though  from  a  quick  spasm  of  pain — 
how  Vesey  loved  her,  what  a  good,  steady  fellow  he  was, 
how  safely  she  might  trust  herself  to  him.  Why,  he 
was  a  teetotaler  too!  "Yes,  though  his  gay  friends 
do  laugh  at  him!"  exclaimed  Lady  Trevalla  admir- 
ingly. They  were  actually  staying  at  a  temperance 
hotel!  The  stress  laid  on  these  facts  did  not  seem 
strange  to  an  ignorant  girl  of  seventeen,  accustomed 
to  Mr.  Trevalla's  solitary  but  eloquent  virtue.  Rather 
weary  of  the  trait,  she  pouted  a  little  over  it,  and  then 
forgot  it  as  a  matter  of  small  moment  one  way  or  the 
other.  So  the  conspiracy  throve,  and  ended  in  the 
good  marriage  with  the  well-to-do  cousin,  in  being  Mrs. 
Trevalla  of  Trevalla  Haven,  married  to  a  big,  handsome, 
ruddy  fellow  who  loved  her.  The  wedding-day  stood 
out  in  memory ;  clearest  of  all  now  was  what  had  been 
no  more  than  a  faint  and  elusive  but  ever-present  sense 
that  for  some  reason  the  guests,  Vesey's  neighbors, 
looked  on  her  with  pity — the  men  who  pressed  her  hand 
and  the  women  who  kissed  her  cheek.  And  at  the  last 
old  Lady  Trevalla  had  burst  suddenly  into  unrestrained 
sobbing.  Why?  Vesey  looked  very  uncomfortable, 
and  even  the  Reverend  Algernon  was  rather  upset. 
However,  consciences  do  no  harm  if  they  do  not  get 
the  upper  hand  till  the  work  is  done ;  Trix  was  already 
Vesey's  wife. 

He  was  something  of  a  man,  this  Vesey  Trevalla; 
he  was  large  built  in  mind,  equitable,  kind,  shrewd,  of 
a  clear  vision.  To  the  end  he  was  a  good  friend  and 
a  worthy  companion  in  his  hours  of  reason.  Trix's 
thoughts  of  him  were  free  from  bitterness.  Her  early 
life  had  given  her  a  tolerance  that  stood  her  in  stead, 
a  touch  of  callousness  which  enabled  her  to  endure. 


LIFE   IS   RECOMMENDED 

As  a  child  she  had  shrugged  thin  shoulders  under 
her  shabby  frock;  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  at  the 
tragedy  now;  her  heart  did  not  break,  but  hardened 
a  little  more.  She  made  some  ineffectual  efforts  to  re- 
claim him;  their  hopelessness  was  absurdly  plain; 
after  a  few  months  Vesey  laughed  at  them,  she  almost 
laughed  herself.  She  settled  down  into  the  impossi- 
ble life,  reproaching  nobody.  When  her  husband  was 
sober,  she  never  referred  to  what  had  happened  when 
he  was  drunk ;  if  he  threw  a  plate  at  her  then,  she  dodged 
the  plate :  she  seemed  in  a  sense  to  have  been  dodging 
plates  and  suchlike  missiles  all  her  life.  Sometimes 
he  had  suspicions  of  himself  and  conjured  up  recol- 
lections of  what  he  had  done.  "Oh,  what  does  last 
night  matter?"  she  would  ask,  in  a  friendly  if  rather 
contemptuous  tone.  Once  she  lifted  the  veil  for  a  mo- 
ment. He  found  her  standing  by  the  body  of  her 
baby;  it  had  died  while  he  was  unfit  to  be  told,  or  at 
any  rate  unable  to  understand. 

"So  the  poor  little  chap's  gone/'  he  said,  softly,  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"Yes,  Vesey,  he's  gone,  thank  God!"  she  said,  look- 
ing him  full  in  the  eyes. 

He  turned  away  without  a  word,  and  went  out  with 
a  heavy  tread.  Trix  felt  that  she  had  been  cruel,  but 
she  did  not  apologize;  and  Vesey  showed  no  grudge. 

The  odd  thing  about  the  four  years  her  married  life 
lasted  was  that  they  now  seemed  so  short.  Even  be- 
fore  old  Lady  Trevalla's  death  (which  happened  a  year 
after  the  wedding),  Trix  had  accommodated  herself  to 
her  position.  From  that  time  all  was  monotony — the 
kind  of  monotony  which  might  well  kill,  but,  failing 
that,  left  little  to  mark  out  one  day  from  another.  She 
did  not  remember  even  that  she  had  been  acutely  miser- 
able either  for  her  husband  or  for  herself;  rather  she 

5 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

had  come  to  disbelieve  in  acute  feelings.  She  had 
grown  deadened  to  sorrow  as  to  joy,  and  to  love,  the 
great  parent  of  both;  the  hardening  process  of  her 
youth  had  been  carried  further.  When  Vesey  caught 
a  chill  and  crumpled  up  under  it  as  sodden  men  do, 
and  died  with  a  thankfulness  he  did  not  conceal,  she 
was  unmoved.  She  was  not  grateful  for  the  deliver- 
ance, nor  yet  grieved  for  the  loss  of  a  friend.  She 
shrugged  her  shoulders  again,  asking  what  the  world 
was  going  to  do  with  her  next. 

Mr.  Trevalla  took  a  view  more  hopeful  than  his 
daughter's,  concluding  that  there  was  cause  for  feel- 
ing considerable  satisfaction  both  on  moral  and  on 
worldly  grounds.  From  the  higher  stand-point  Trix 
(under  his  guidance)  had  made  a  noble  although  un- 
successful effort,  and  had  shown  the  fortitude  to  be  ex- 
pected from  his  daughter;  while  Vesey,  poor  fellow, 
had  been  well  looked  after  to  the  end,  and  was  now  be- 
yond the  reach  of  temptation.  From  the  lower — Mr. 
Trevalla  glanced  for  a  moment  round  the  cosey  apart- 
ment he  now  occupied  at  Brighton,  where  he  was  be- 
ginning to  get  a  nice  little  library  round  him — yes, 
from  the  lower,  while  it  was  regrettable  that  the  estate 
had  passed  to  a  distant  cousin,  Trix  was  left  with 
twenty  thousand  pounds  (in  free  cash,  for  Vesey  had 
refused  to  make  a  settlement,  since  he  did  not  know 
what  money  he  would  want — that  is,  how  long  he 
would  last)  and  an  ascertained  social  position.  She 
was  only  twenty -two  when  left  a  widow,  and  better- 
looking  than  she  had  ever  been  in  her  life.  On  the 
whole,  were  the  four  years  misspent?  Had  anybody 
very  much  to  grumble  at?  Certainly  nobody  had  any 
reason  to  reproach  himself.  And  he  wondered  why 
Trix  had  not  sent  for  him  to  console  her  in  her 
affliction.  He  was  glad  she  had  not,  but  he  thought 

6 


LIFE   IS   RECOMMENDED 

that  the  invitation  would  have  been  natural  and  be- 
coming. 

"But  I  never  pretended  to  understand  women."  he 
murmured,  with  his  gentle  smile. 

Women  would  have  declared  that  they  did  not  under- 
stand him  either,  using  the  phrase  with  a  bitter  in- 
tention foreign  to  the  Reverend  Algernon's  lips  and 
temper.  His  good  points  were  so  purely  intellectual 
— lucidity  of  thought,  temperance  of  opinion,  toler- 
ance, humor,  appreciation  of  things  which  deserved 
it.  These  gifts  would,  with  women,  have  pleaded  their 
rarity  in  vain  against  the  more  ordinary  endowments 
of  willingness  to  work  and  a  capacity  for  thinking, 
even  occasionally,  about  other  people.  Men  liked  him 
— so  long  as  they  had  no  business  relations  with  him. 
But  women  are  moralists,  from  the  best  to  the  worst 
of  them.  If  he  had  lived,  Trix  would  probably  have 
scorned  to  avail  herself  of  his  counsels.  Yet  they 
might  well  have  been  useful  to  her  in  after-days;  he 
was  a  good  taster  of  men.  As  it  was,  he  died  soon 
after  Vesey,  having  caught  a  chill  and  refused  to  drink 
hot  grog.  That  was  his  doctor's  explanation.  Mr. 
Trevalla's  dying  smile  accused  the  man  of  cloaking 
his  own  ignorance  by  such  an  excuse;  he  prized  his 
virtue  too  much  to  charge  it  with  his  death.  He  was 
sorry  to  leave  his  rooms  at  Brighton ;  other  very  strong 
feeling  about  his  departure  he  had  none.  Certainly 
his  daughter  did  not  come  between  him  and  his  prep- 
arations for  hereafter,  nor  the  thought  of  her  solitude 
distract  his  fleeting  soul. 

In  the  general  result  life  seemed  ended  for  Trix 
Trevalla  at  twenty -two,  and,  pending  release  from 
it  in  the  ordinary  course,  she  contemplated  an  impa- 
tient and  provisional  existence  in  Continental  pen- 
sions—  establishments  where  a  young  and  pretty 

7 


THE    INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

woman  could  not  be  suspected  of  wishing  to  reap  any 
advantage  from  prettiness  or  youth.  Hundreds  of 
estimable  ladies  guarantee  this  security,  and  there- 
by obtain  a  genteel  and  sufficient  company  round 
their  modest  and  inexpensive  tables.  It  was  what 
Trix  asked  for,  and  for  two  years  she  got  it.  During 
this  period  she  sometimes  regretted  Vesey  Trevalla, 
and  sometimes  asked  whether  vacancy  were  not  worse 
than  misery,  or  on  what  grounds  limbo  was  to  be 
preferred  to  hell.  She  could  not  make  up  her  mind 
on  this  question — nor  is  it  proposed  to  settle  it  here. 
Probably  most  people  have  tried  both  on  their  own 
account. 

One  evening  she  arrived  at  Paris  rather  late,  and 
the  isolation  ward  (metaphors  will  not  be  denied  some- 
times) to  which  she  had  been  recommended  was  found 
to  be  full.  Somewhat  apprehensive,  she  was  driven  to 
a  hotel  of  respectability,  and,  rushing  to  catch  the 
flying  coat-tails  of  table -d'hote,  found  herself  seated 
beside  a  man  who  was  apparently  not  much  above 
thirty.  This  unwonted  propinquity  set  her  doing  what 
she  had  not  done  for  years  in  public,  though  she  had 
never  altogether  abandoned  the  practice  as  a  private 
solace ;  as  she  drank  her  cold  soup,  she  laughed.  Her 
neighbor,  a  shabby  man  with  a  rather  shaggy  beard, 
turned  benevolently  inquiring  eyes  on  her.  A  mo- 
ment's glance  made  him  start  a  little  and  say,  "  Surely 
it's  Mrs.  Trevalla?" 

"  That's  my  name,"  answered  Trix,  wondering  great- 
ly, but  thanking  Heaven  for  a  soul  who  knew  her.  In 
the  pensions  they  never  knew  who  you  were,  but  were 
always  trying  to  find  out,  and  generally  succeeded  the 
day  after  you  went  away. 

"That's  very  curious,"  he  went  on.  "I  dare  say 
you'll  be  surprised,  but  your  photograph  stands  on 

8 


LIFE   IS   RECOMMENDED 

my  bedroom  mantel-piece.  I  knew  you  directly  from 
it.  It  was  sent  to  me." 

"When  was  it  sent  you?"  she  asked. 

"At  the  time  of  your  marriage."  He  grew  grave 
as  he  spoke. 

"You  were  his  friend?" 

"  I  called  myself  so."  Conversation  was  busy  round 
them,  yet  he  lowered  his  voice  to  add,  "I  don't  know 
now  whether  I  had  any  right." 

"Why  not?" 

"I  gave  up  very  soon." 

Trix's  eyes  shot  a  quick  glance  at  him,  and  she 
frowned  a  little. 

"  Well,  I  ought  to  have  been  more  than  a  friend, 
and  so  did  I,"  she  said. 

"  It  would  have  been  utterly  useless,  of  course.  Rea- 
son recognizes  that,  but  then  conscience  isn't  always 
reasonable." 

She  agreed  with  a  nod  as  she  galloped  through  her 
fish,  eager  to  overtake  the  menu. 

"  Besides,  I  have  " — he  hesitated  a  moment,  smiling 
apologetically  and  playing  nervously  with  a  knife — "  I 
have  a  propensity  myself,  and  that  makes  me  judge 
him  more  easily — and  myself  not  so  lightly." 

She  looked  at  his  pint  of  ordinaire  with  eyebrows 
raised. 

"Oh  no,  quite  another,"  he  assured  her,  smiling. 
"  But  it's  enough  to  teach  me  what  propensities 
are." 

"  What  is  it?  Tell  me."  She  caught  eagerly  at  the 
strange  luxury  of  intimate  talk. 

"Never!  But,  as  I  say,  I've  learned  from  it.  Are 
you  alone  here,  Mrs.  Trevalla?" 

"  Here  and  everywhere,"  said  Trix,  with  a  sigh  and 
a  smile. 

9 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"Come  for  a  stroll  after  dinner.  I'm  an  old  friend 
of  Vesey's,  you  know."  The  last  remark  was  evident- 
ly thrown  in  as  a  concession  to  rules  not  held  in  much 
honor  by  the  speaker.  Trix  said  that  she  would  come ; 
the  outing  seemed  a  treat  to  her  after  the  pensions. 

They  drank  beer  together  on  the  boulevards;  he 
heard  her  story,  and  he  said  many  things  to  her,  waving 
(as  the  evening  wore  on)  a  pipe  to  and  fro  from  his 
mouth  to  the  length  of  his  arm.  It  was  entirely  owing 
to  the  things  which  he  said  that  evening  on  the  boule- 
vards that  she  sat  now  in  the  flat  over  the  river,  her 
mourning  doffed,  her  guaranteed  pensions  forsaken, 
London  before  her,  an  unknown  alluring  sea. 

"What  you  want/'  he  told  her  with  smiling  vehe- 
mence, "  is  a  revenge.  Hitherto  you've  done  nothing ; 
you've  only  had  things  done  to  you.  You've  made 
nothing ;  you've  only  been  made  into  things  yourself. 
Life  has  played  with  you;  go  and  play  with  it." 

Trix  listened,  sitting  very  still,  with  eager  eyes. 
There  was  a  life,  then — a  life  still  open  to  her;  the 
door  was  not  shut,  nor  her  story  of  necessity  ended. 

"I  dare  say  you'll  scorch  your  fingers,  for  the  fire 
burns.  But  it's  better  to  die  of  heat  than  of  cold.  And 
if  trouble  comes,  call  at  6 A  Danes  Inn." 

"Where  in  the  world  is  Danes  Inn?"  she  asked, 
laughing. 

"  Between  New  and  Clement's,  of  course."  He  look- 
ed at  her  in  momentary  surprise,  and  then  laughed. 
"  Oh,  well,  not  above  a  mile  from  civilization — and  a 
shilling  cab  from  aristocracy.  I  happen  to  lodge  there. " 

She  looked  at  him  curiously.  He  was  shabby,  yet 
rather  distinguished,  shaggy  but  clean.  He  advised 
life,  and  he  lived  in  Danes  Inn,  where  an  instinct  told 
her  that  life  would  not  be  a  very  maddening  or  riotous 
thing. 

10 


LIFE   IS   RECOMMENDED 

"Come,  you  must  live  again,  Mrs.  Tre valla/'  he 
urged. 

"Do  you  live,  as  you  call  it?"  she  asked,  half  in 
mockery,  half  in  a  genuine  curiosity. 

A  shade  of  doubt,  perhaps  of  distress,  spread  over 
his  face.  He  knocked  out  his  pipe  deliberately  before 
answering. 

"Well,  hardly,  perhaps."  Then  he  added,  eagerly, 
"I  work,  though." 

"Does  that  do  instead?"  To  Trix's  new-born  mood 
the  substitute  seemed  a  poor  one. 

"Yes — if  you  have  a  propensity." 

What  was  his  tone?  Sad  or  humorous,  serious  or 
mocking?  It  sounded  all. 

"  Oh,  work's  your  propensity,  is  it?"  she  cried,  gayly 
and  scornfully,  as  she  rose  to  her  feet.  "  I  don't  think 
it's  mine,  you  know." 

He  made  no  reply,  but  turned  away  to  pay  for  the 
beer.  It  was  a  trifling  circumstance,  but  she  noticed 
that  at  first  he  put  down  three  sous  for  the  waiter,  and 
then  returned  to  the  table  in  order  to  make  the  tip 
six.  He  looked  as  if  he  had  done  his  duty  when  he 
had  made  it  six. 

They  walked  back  to  the  hotel  together  and  shook 
hands  in  the  hall. 

"6A  Danes  Inn?"  she  asked,  merrily. 

"6A  Danes  Inn,  Mrs.  Trevalla.  Is  it  possible  that 
my  advice  is  working?" 

"It's  working  very  hard  indeed — as  hard  as  you 
work.  But  Danes  Inn  is  only  a  refuge,  isn't  it?" 

"It's  not  fit  for  much  more,  I  fear." 

"I  shall  remember  it.  And  now,  as  a  formality — 
and  perhaps  as  a  concession  to  the  postman — who  are 
you?" 

"My  name  is  Airey  Newton." 

ii 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"I  never  heard  Vesey  mention  you." 

"No,  I  expect  not.  But  I  knew  him  very  well.  I'm 
not  an  impostor,  Mrs.  Trevalla." 

"Why  didn't  he  mention  you?"  asked  Trix.  Vesey 
had  been,  on  the  whole,  a  communicative  man. 

He  hesitated  a  moment  before  he  answered. 

"Well,  I  wrote  to  him  on  the  subject  of  his  mar- 
riage," he  confessed  at  last. 

She  needed  no  more. 

"I  see,"  she  said,  with  an  understanding  nod. 
"Well,  that  was  —  honest  of  you.  Good -night,  Mr. 
Newton." 

This  meeting — all  their  conversation — was  fresh  and 
speaking  in  her  brain  as  she  sat  looking  over  the  river 
in  her  recovered  gown  of  blue.  But  for  the  meeting, 
but  for  the  shabby  man  and  what  he  had  said,  there 
would  have  been  no  blue  gown,  she  would  not  have 
been  in  London  nor  in  the  flat.  He  had  brought  her 
there,  to  do  something,  to  make  something,  to  play 
with  life  as  life  had  played  with  her,  to  have  a  re- 
venge, to  die,  if  die  she  must,  of  heat  rather  than  of 
cold. 

Well,  she  would  follow  his  advice — would  accept  and 
fulfil  it  amply.  "At  the  worst  there  are  the  pensions 
again — and  there's  Danes  Inn!" 

She  laughed  at  that  idea,  but  her  laugh  was  rather 
hard,  her  mouth  a  little  grim,  her  eyes  mischievous. 
These  were  the  marks  youth  and  the  four  years  had 
left.  Besides,  she  cared  for  not  a  soul  on  earth. 


II 

COMING  NEAR  THE  FIRE 

AT  the  age  of  forty  (a  point  now  passed  by  some 
half-dozen  years)  Mrs.  Bonfill  had  become  moth- 
erly. The  change  was  sudden,  complete,  and  eminent- 
ly wise.  It  was  accomplished  during  a  summer's 
retirement;  she  disappeared  a  queen  regnant,  she  re- 
appeared a  dowager  —  all  by  her  own  act,  for  none 
had  yet  ventured  to  call  her  passee.  But  she  was 
a  big  woman,  and  she  recognized  facts.  She  had  her 
reward.  She  gained  power  instead  of  losing  it;  she 
had  always  loved  power,  and  had  the  shrewdness 
to  discern  that  there  was  more  than  one  form  of  it. 
The  obvious  form  she  had  never,  as  a  young  and 
handsome  woman,  misused  or  overused;  she  had  no 
temptations  that  way,  or,  as  her  friend  Lady  Blix- 
worth  preferred  to  put  it,  "In  that  respect  dearest 
Sarah  was  always  bourgeoise  to  the  core."  The  new 
form  she  now  attained  —  influence  —  was  more  to  her 
taste.  She  liked  to  shape  people's  lives;  if  they  were 
submissive  and  obedient  she  would  make  their  fort- 
unes. She  needed  some  natural  capacities  in  her 
proteges,  of  course;  but,  since  she  chose  cleverly, 
these  were  seldom  lacking.  Mrs.  Bonfill  did  the  rest. 
She  could  open  doors  that  obeyed  no  common  key; 
she  could  smooth  difficulties;  she  had  in  two  or  three 
cases  blotted  out  a  past,  and  once  had  reformed  a 
gambler.  But  she  liked  best  to  make  marriages  and 

13 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

ministers.  Her  own  daughter,  of  course,  she  married 
immediately  —  that  was  nothing.  She  had  married 
Nellie  Towler  to  Sir  James  Quinby-Lee — the  betting 
had  been  ten  to  one  against  it — and  Lady  Mildred 
Haughton  to  Frank  Cleveland — flat  in  the  face  of  both 
the  families.  As  for  ministers,  she  stood  well  with 
Lord  Farringham,  was  an  old  friend  of  Lord  Glentorly, 
and,  to  put  it  unkindly,  had  Constantine  Blair  fairly 
in  her  pocket.  It  does  not  do  to  exaggerate  drawing- 
room  influence,  but  when  Beaufort  Chance  became  a 
whip,  and  young  Lord  Mervyn  was  appointed  Glen- 
torly's  under  -  secretary  at  the  war  office,  and  every- 
body knew  that  they  were  Mrs.  Bonfill's  last  and  prime 
favorites — well,  the  coincidence  was  remarkable.  And 
never  a  breath  of  scandal  with  it  all!  It  was  no 
small  achievement  for  a  woman  born  in,  bred  at,  and 
married  from  an  unpretentious  villa  at  Streatham. 
La  carri&re  ouverte — but  perhaps  that  is  doing  some 
injustice  to  Mr.  Bonfill.  After  all,  he  and  the  big 
house  in  Grosvenor  Square  had  made  everything  pos- 
sible. Mrs.  Bonfill  loved  her  husband,  and  she  never 
tried  to  make  him  a  minister;  it  was  a  well-balanced 
mind,  save  for  that  foible  of  power.  He  was  very  proud 
of  her,  though  he  rather  wondered  why  she  took  so 
much  trouble  about  other  people's  affairs.  He  owned 
a  brewery,  and  was  chairman  of  a  railway  company. 

Trix  Trevalla  had  been  no  more  than  a  month  in 
London  when  she  had  the  great  good  fortune  to  be 
taken  up  by  Mrs.  Bonfill.  It  was  not  everybody's 
luck.  Mrs.  Bonfill  was  particular;  she  refused  hun- 
dreds, some  for  her  own  reasons,  some  because  of 
the  things  Viola  Blixworth  might  say.  The  Frickers, 
for  example,  failed  in  their  assault  on  Mrs.  Bonfill 
— or  had  up  to  now.  Yet  Mrs.  Bonfill  herself  would 
have  been  good-natured  to  the  Frickers. 

14 


COMING   NEAR   THE   FIRE 

"I  can't  expose  myself  to  Viola  by  taking  up  the 
Prickers,"  she  explained  to  her  husband,  who  had  been 
not  indisposed,  for  business  reasons,  to  do  Fricker  a 
good  turn.  For  Lady  Blixworth,  with  no  other  qual- 
ities very  striking  to  a  casual  observer,  and  with  an 
appearance  that  the  term  "elegant"  did  ample  justice 
to,  possessed  a  knack  of  describing  people  whom  she 
did  not  like  in  a  way  that  they  did  not  like,  a  gift 
which  made  her  respected  and  on  the  whole  popular. 

"  The  woman's  like  a  bolster  grown  fat ;  the  daugh- 
ter's like  a  sausage  filled  unevenly;  and  the  man — 
well,  I  wouldn't  have  him  to  a  political  party!" 

Thus  had  Lady  Blixworth  dealt  with  the  Frickers, 
and  even  Mrs.  Bonfill  quailed. 

It  was  very  different  with  Trix  Trevalla.  Pretty, 
presentable,  pleasant,  even  witty  in  an  unsubtle  sort 
of  fashion,  she  made  an  immediate  success.  She  was 
understood  to  be  well  off,  too ;  the  flat  was  not  a  cheap 
one ;  she  began  to  entertain  a  good  deal  in  a  quiet  way ; 
she  drove  a  remarkably  neat  brougham.  These  things 
are  not  done  for  nothing — nor  even  on  the  interest  of 
twenty  thousand  pounds.  Yet  Trix  did  them,  and 
nobody  asked  any  questions,  except  Mrs.  Bonfill,  and 
she  was  assured  that  Trix  was  living  well  within 
her  means.  May  not  "  means  "  denote  capital  as  well 
as  income?  The  distinction  was  in  itself  rather  ob- 
scure to  Trix,  and,  Vesey  Trevalla  having  made  no 
settlement,  there  was  nothing  to  drive  it  home.  Last- 
ly, Trix  was  most  prettily  docile  and  submissive  to 
Mrs.  Bonfill  —  grateful,  attentive,  and  obedient.  She 
earned  a  reward.  Any  woman  with  half  an  eye  could 
see  what  that  reward  should  be. 

But  for  once  Mrs.  Bonfill  vacillated.  After  knowing 
Trix  a  fortnight  she  destined  her  for  Beaufort  Chance, 
who  had  a  fair  income,  ambition  at  least  equal  to  his 

15 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

talents,  and  a  chance  of  the  House  of  Lords  some  day. 
Before  she  had  known  Trix  a  month  —  so  engaging 
and  docile  was  Trix  —  Mrs.  Bonfill  began  to  wonder 
whether  Beaufort  Chance  were  good  enough.  Cer- 
tainly Trix  was  making  a  very  great  success.  What 
then?  Should  it  be  Mervyn,  Mrs.  Bonfill's  prime 
card,  her  chosen  disciple?  A  man  destined,  as  she 
believed,  to  go  very  high — starting  pretty  high,  any- 
how, and  starts  in  the  handicap  are  not  to  be  disre- 
garded. Mrs.  Bonfill  doubted  seriously  whether,  in 
that  mental  book  she  kept,  she  should  not  transfer  Trix 
to  Mervyn.  If  Trix  went  on  behaving  well —  But 
the  truth  is  that  Mrs.  Bonfill  herself  was  captured  by 
Trix.  Yet  Trix  feared  Mrs.  Bonfill  even  while  she 
liked  and  to  some  extent  managed  her.  After  favoring 
Chance,  Mrs.  Bonfill  began  to  put  forward  Mervyn. 
Whether  Trix's  management  had  anything  to  do  with 
this  result  it  is  hard  to  say. 

Practical  statesmen  are  not  generally  blamed  for 
such  changes  of  purpose.  They  may  hold  out  hopes 
of,  say,  a  reduction  of  taxation  to  one  class  or  interest, 
and  ultimately  award  the  boon  to  another.  Nobody 
is  very  severe  on  them.  But  it  comes  rather  hard  on 
the  disappointed  interest,  which,  in  revenge,  may  show 
what  teeth  it  has. 

Trix  and  Mervyn  were  waltzing  together  at  Mrs. 
Bonfill's  dance.  Lady  Blixworth  sat  on  a  sofa  with 
Beaufort  Chance  and  looked  on — at  the  dance  and  at 
her  companion. 

"She's  rather  remarkable,"  she  was  saying,  in  her 
idle,  languid  voice.  "She  was  meant  to  be  vulgar, 
I'm  sure,  but  she  contrives  to  avoid  it.  I  rather  ad- 
mire her." 

"A  dangerous  shade  of  feeling  to  excite  in  you,  it 
seems/'  he  remarked,  sourly. 

16 


COMING   NEAR   THE   FIRE 

The  lady  imparted  an  artificial  alarm  to  her  coun- 
tenance. 

"I'm  so  sorry  if  I  said  anything  wrong;  but,  oh, 
surely,  there's  no  truth  in  the  report  that  you're — ?" 
A  motion  of  her  fan  towards  Trix  ended  the  sen- 
tence. 

"  Not  the  least,"  he  answered,  gruffly. 

Sympathy  succeeded  alarm.  With  people  not  too 
clever,  Lady  Blixworth  allowed  herself  a  liberal  dis- 
play of  sympathy.  It  may  have  been  all  right  to  make 
Beaufort  a  whip  (though  that  question  arose  afterwards 
in  an  acute  form),  but  he  was  no  genius  in  a  drawing- 
room. 

"Dear  Sarah  talks  so  at  random  sometimes/'  drawl- 
ed she.  "Well  meant,  I  know,  Beaufort,  but  it  does 
put  people  in  awkward  positions,  doesn't  it?" 

He  was  a  conceited  man,  and  a  pink-and-white  one. 
He  flushed  visibly  and  angrily. 

"What  has  Mrs.  Bonfill  been  saying  about  me?" 

"Oh,  nothing  much;  it's  just  her  way.  And  you 
mustn't  resent  it — you  owe  so  much  to  her."  Lady 
Blixworth  was  enjoying  herself;  she  had  a  natural 
delight  in  mischief,  especially  when  she  could  direct 
it  against  her  beloved  and  dreaded  Sarah  with  fair 
security. 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"Say!  Nothing,  you  foolish  man!  She  diffused 
an  impression." 

"That  I—?" 

"That  you  liked  Mrs.  Trevalla!  She  was  wrong,  I 
suppose.  Voila  tout,  and,  above  all,  don't  look  hot 
and  furious;  the  room  is  stifling  as  it  is." 

Beaufort  Chance  was  furious.  We  forgive  much  ill 
treatment  so  it  is  secret,  we  accept  many  benefits  on 
the  same  understanding.  To  parade  the  benefit  and 

17 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

to  let  the  injustice  leak  out  are  the  things  that  make 
us  smart.  Lady  Blix worth  had  by  dexterous  implica- 
tion accused  Mrs.  Bonfill  of  both  offences.  Beaufort 
had  not  the  self-control  to  seem  less  angry  than  he 
was.  "  Surely,"  thought  Lady  Blixworth,  watching 
him,  "he's  too  stupid  even  for  politics!" 

"You  may  take  it  from  me/'  he  said,  pompously, 
"that  I  have,  and  have  had,  no  more  than  the  most 
ordinary  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Trevalla." 

She  nodded  her  head  in  satisfied  assent.  "  No,  he's 
just  stupid  enough,"  she  concluded,  smiling  and  yawn- 
ing behind  her  fan.  She  had  no  compunctions — she 
had  told  nearly  half  the  truth.  Mrs.  Bonfill  never 
gossiped  about  her  ministers  —  it  would  have  been 
fatal — but  she  was  sometimes  rather  expansive  on  the 
subject  of  her  marriages ;  she  was  tempted  to  collect 
opinions  on  them;  she  had,  no  donbt  (before  she  be-/ 
gan  to  vacillate),  collected  two  or  three  opinions  about 
Beaufort  Chance  and  Trix  Trevalla. 

Trix's  brain  was  whirling  far  quicker  than  her  body 
turned  in  the  easy  swing  of  the  waltz.  It  had  been 
whirling  this  month  back,  ever  since  the  prospect  be- 
gan to  open,  the  triumphs  to  dawn,  ambition  to  grow, 
a  sense  of  her  attraction  and  power  to  come  home  to 
her.  The  pensions  were  gone;  she  had  plunged  into 
life.  She  was  delighted  and  dazzled.  Herself,  her 
time,  her  feelings,  and  her  money  she  flung  into  the 
stream  with  a  lavish  recklessness.  Yet  behind  the 
gay  intoxication  of  the  transformed  woman  she  was 
conscious  still  of  the  old  self,  the  wide-awake,  rather 
hard  girl,  that  product  of  the  lodging-houses  and  the 
four  years  with  Vesey  Trevalla.  Amid  the  excitement, 
the  success,  the  folly,  the  old  voice  spoke,  cautioning, 
advising,  never  allowing  her  to  forget  that  there  were 
a  purpose  and  an  end  in  it  all,  a  career  to  make  and  to 

18 


COMING   NEAR   THE   FIRE 

make  speedily.  Her  eyes  might  wander  to  every  al- 
luring object ;  they  returned  to  the  main  chance.  Where- 
fore Mrs.  Bonfill  had  no  serious  uneasiness  about  dear 
Trix ;  when  the  time  came  she  would  be  sensible ;  peo- 
ple fare,  she  reflected,  none  the  worse  for  being  a  bit 
hard  at  the  core. 

"I  like  sitting  here,"  said  Trix  to  Mervyn  after  the 
dance,  "  and  seeing  everybody  one's  read  about  or  seen 
pictures  of.  Of  course  I  don't  really  belong  to  it,  but 
it  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  did." 

"You'd  like  to?"  he  asked. 

"Well,  I  suppose  so,"  she  laughed  as  her  eyes  ram- 
bled over  the  room  again. 

Lord  Mervyn  was  conscious  of  his  responsibilities. 
He  had  a  future;  he  was  often  told  so  in  public  and  in 
private,  though  it  is  fair  to  add  that  he  would  have 
believed  it  unsolicited.  That  future,  together  with  the 
man  who  was  to  have  it,  he  took  seriously.  And, 
though  of  rank  unimpeachable,  he  was  not  quite  rich 
enough  for  that  future;  it  could  be  done  on  what  he 
had,  but  it  could  be  done  better  with  some  more. 
Evidently  Mrs.  Bonfill  had  been  captured  by  Trix; 
as  a  rule  she  would  not  have  neglected  the  considera- 
tion that  his  future  could  be  done  better  with  some 
more.  He  had  not  forgotten  it;  so  he  did  not  immedi- 
ately offer  to  make  Trix  really  belong  to  the  brilliant 
world  she  saw.  She  was  very  attractive,  and  well  off, 
as  he  understood,  but  she  was  not,  from  a  material 
point  of  view,  by  any  means  what  he  had  a  right  to 
claim.  Besides  she  was  a  widow  and  he  would  have 
preferred  that  not  to  be  the  case. 

"Prime  ministers  and  things  walking  about  like 
flies!"  sighed  Trix,  venting  satisfaction  in  a  pardonable 
exaggeration.  It  was  true,  however,  that  Lord  Far- 
ringham  had  looked  in  for  half  an  hour,  talked  to 

19 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF  PEGGY 

Mrs.  Bonfill  for  ten  minutes,  and  made  a  tour  round, 
displaying  a  lofty  cordiality  which  admirably  con- 
cealed his  desire  to  be  elsewhere. 

"  You'll  soon  get  used  to  it  all,"  Mervyn  assured 
her  with  a  rather  superior  air.  "  It's  a  bore,  but  it  has 
to  be  done.  The  social  side  can't  be  neglected,  you 
see." 

"  If  I  neglected  anything,  it  would  be  the  other,  I 
think." 

He  smiled  tolerantly  and  quite  believed  her.  Trix 
was  most  butterfly-like  to-night ;  there  was  no  hardness 
in  her  laugh,  not  a  hint  of  grimness  in  her  smile. 
"  You  would  never  think,"  Mrs.  Bonfill  used  to  whisper, 
"what  the  poor  child  has  been  through." 

Beaufort  Chance  passed  by,  casting  a  scowling  glance 
at  them. 

"I  haven't  seen  you  dancing  with  Chance — or  per- 
haps you  sat  out?  He's  not  much  of  a  performer." 

"I  gave  him  a  dance,  but  I  forgot." 

"Which  dance,  Mrs.  Trevalla?"  Her  glance  had 
prompted  the  question. 

"  Ours,"  said  Trix.  "  You  came  so  late — I  had  none 
left." 

"I  very  seldom  dance,  but  you  tempted  me."  He 
was  not  underrating  his  compliment.  For  a  moment 
Trix  was  sorely  inclined  to  snub  him;  but  policy  for- 
bade. When  he  left  her,  to  seek  Lady  Blixworth,  she 
felt  rather  relieved. 

Beaufort  Chance  had  watched  his  opportunity,  and 
came  by  again  with  an  accidental  air.  She  called  to 
him  and  was  all  graciousness  and  apologies;  she  had 
every  wish  to  keep  the  second  string  in  working  order. 
Beaufort  had  not  sat  there  ten  minutes  before  he  was 
in  his  haste  accusing  Lady  Blixworth  of  false  insinua- 
tions—  unless,  indeed,  Trix  were  an  innocent  instru- 

20 


COMING   NEAR   THE   FIRE 

ment  in  Mrs.  BonfiU's  hands.  Trix  was  looking  the 
part  very  well. 

"  I  wish  you'd  do  me  a  great  kindness/'  he  said,  pres- 
ently. "Come  to  dinner  some  day." 

"Oh,  that's  a  very  tolerable  form  of  benevolence. 
Of  course  I  will." 

"Wait  a  bit.     I  mean — to  meet  the  Prickers." 

"Oh!"  Meeting  the  Prickers  seemed  hardly  an  in- 
ducement. 

But  Beaufort  Chance  explained.  On  the  one  side 
Pricker  was  a  very  useful  man  to  stand  well  with;  he 
could  put  you  into  things — and  take  you  out  at  the 
right  time.  Trix  nodded  sagely,  though  she  knew 
nothing  about  such  matters.  On  the  other  hand — 
Beaufort  grew  both  diplomatic  and  confidential  in 
manner — Pricker  had  little  ambition  outside  his  busi- 
ness, but  Mrs.  and  Miss  Pricker  had  enough  and  to 
spare — ambitions  social  for  themselves,  and,  subsidiary 
thereunto,  political  for  Pricker. 

"Viola  Blixworth  has  frightened  Mrs.  Bonfill,"  he 
complained.  "Lady  Glentorly  talks  about  drawing 
the  line,  and  all  the  rest  of  them  are  just  as  bad.  Now 
if  you  come — " 

"  Me?  What  good  should  I  do?  The  Prickers  won't 
care  about  me." 

"Oh  yes,  they  will!"  He  did  not  lack  adroitness  in 
baiting  the  hook  for  her.  "They  know  you  can  do 
anything  with  Mrs.  Bonfill ;  they  know  you're  going  to 
be  very  much  in  it.  You  won't  be  afraid  of  Viola 
Blixworth  in  a  month  or  two!  I  shall  please  Pricker 
— you'll  please  the  women.  Now  do  come." 

Trix's  vanity  was  flattered.  Was  she  already  a 
woman  of  influence?  Beaufort  Chance  had  the  other 
lure  ready  too. 

"  And  I  dare  say  you  don't  mind  hearing  of  a  good 

21 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

thing  if  it  comes  in  your  way?"  he  suggested,  care- 
lessly. "People  with  money  to  spare  find  Fricker 
worth  knowing,  and  he's  absolutely  square." 

"Do  you  mean  he'd  make  money  for  me?"  asked 
Trix,  trying  to  keep  any  note  of  eagerness  out  of  her 
voice. 

"He'd  show  you  how  to  make  it  for  yourself,  any- 
how." 

Trix  sat  in  meditative  silence  for  a  few  moments. 
Presently  she  turned  to  him  with  a  bright,  friendly 
smile. 

"Oh,  never  mind  all  that!  I'll  come  for  your  sake 
— to  please  you,"  she  said. 

Beaufort  Chance  was  not  quite  sure  that  he  believed 
her  this  time,  but  he  looked  as  if  he  did — which  serves 
just  as  well  in  social  relations.  He  named  a  day,  and 
Trix  gayly  accepted  the  appointment.  There  were 
few  adventures,  not  many  new  things,  that  she  was 
not  ready  for  just  now.  The  love  of  the  world  had  laid 
hold  of  her. 

And  here  at  Mrs.  Bonfill's  she  seemed  to  be  in  the 
world  up  to  her  eyes.  People  had  come  on  from  big 
parties  as  the  evening  waned,  and  the  last  hour  dotted 
the  ballroom  with  celebrities.  Politicians  in  crowds, 
leaders  of  fashion,  an  actress  or  two,  an  Indian  prince, 
a  great  explorer — they  made  groups  which  seemed  to 
express  the  many-sidedness  of  London,  to  be  the  thou- 
sand tributaries  that  swell  the  great  stream  of  its  so- 
ciety. There  was  a  little  unusual  stir  to-night.  A 
foreign  complication  had  arisen,  or  was  supposed  to 
have  arisen.  People  were  asking  what  the  Czar  was 
going  to  do ;  and,  when  one  considers  the  reputation 
for  secrecy  enjoyed  by  Russian  diplomacy,  quite  a  sur- 
prising number  of  them  seemed  to  know  and  told  one 
another  with  an  authority  only  matched  by  the  dis- 

22 


COMING   NEAR    THE    FIRE 

crepancy  between  their  versions.  When  they  saw  a 
man  who  possibly  might  know — Lord  Glentorly — they 
crowded  round  him  eagerly,  regardless  of  the  implied 
aspersion  on  their  own  knowledge.  Glentorly  had 
been  sitting  in  a  corner  with  Mrs.  Bonfill,  and  she 
shared  in  his  glory,  perhaps  in  his  private  knowledge. 
But  both  Glentorly  and  Mrs.  Bonfill  professed  to  know 
no  more  than  there  was  in  the  papers,  and  insinuated 
that  they  did  not  believe  that.  Everybody  at  once  de- 
clared that  they  had  never  believed  that,  and  had  said 
so  at  dinner,  and  the  very  wise  added  that  it  was  evi- 
dently inspired  by  the  Stock  Exchange.  A  remark  to 
this  effect  had  just  fallen  on  Trix's  ears  when  a  second 
observation  from  behind  reached  her. 

"Not  one  of  them  knows  a  thing  about  it,"  said  a 
calm,  cool,  youthful  voice. 

"I  can't  think  why  they  want  to,"  came  as  an  an- 
swer in  rich,  pleasant  tones. 

Trix  glanced  round  and  saw  a  smart,  trim  young 
man,  and  by  his  side  a  girl  with  beautiful  hair.  She 
had  only  a  glimpse  of  them,  for  in  an  instant  they 
disentangled  themselves  from  the  gossipers  and  joined 
the  few  couples  who  were  keeping  it  up  to  the  last 
dance. 

It  will  be  seen  that  Beaufort  Chance  had  not  given 
up  the  game ;  Lady  Blixworth's  pin-pricks  had  done  the 
work  which  they  were  probably  intended  to  do;  they 
had  incited  him  to  defy  Mrs.  Bonfill,  to  try  to  win  off 
his  own  bat.  She  might  discard  him  in  favor  of  Mer- 
vyn,  but  he  would  fight  for  himself.  The  dinner  to 
which  he  bade  Trix  would  at  once  assert  and  favor  in- 
timacy ;  if  he  could  put  her  under  an  obligation  it  would 
be  all  to  the  good ;  flattering  her  vanity  was  already 
a  valuable  expedient.  That  stupidity  of  his,  which 
struck  Viola  Blixworth  with  such  a  sense  of  its  density, 

23 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

lay  not  in  misunderstanding  or  misvaluing  the  com- 
mon motives  of  humanity,  but  in  considering  that  all 
humanity  was  common :  he  did  not  allow  for  the  shades, 
the  variations,  the  degrees.  Nor  did  he  appreciate  in 
the  least  the  mood  that  governed  or  the  temper  that 
swayed  Trix  Trevalla.  He  thought  that  she  pre- 
ferred him  as  a  man,  Mervyn  as  a  match.  Both  of 
them  were,  in  fact,  at  this  time  no  more  than  figures 
in  the  great  ballet  at  which  she  now  looked  on,  in  which 
she  meant  soon  to  mix. 

Mrs.  Bonfill  caught  Trix  as  she  went  to  her  carriage 
— that  smart  brougham  was  in  waiting — and  patted 
her  cheek  more  materno. 

"I  saw  you  were  enjoying  yourself,  child,"  she 
said.  "  What  was  all  that  Beaufort  had  to  say  to 
you?" 

"Oh,  just  nonsense,"  answered  Trix,  lightly. 

Mrs.  Bonfill  smiled  amiably. 

"He  is  not  considered  to  talk  nonsense  generally," 
she  said ;  "  but  perhaps  there  was  some  one  you  wanted 
to  talk  to  more!  You  won't  say  anything,  I  see,  but 
— Mortimer  stayed  late!  He's  coming  to  luncheon  to- 
morrow. Won't  you  come  too?" 

"I  shall  be  delighted,"  said  Trix.  Her  eyes  were 
sparkling.  She  had  possessed  wit  enough  to  see  the 
vacillation  of  Mrs.  Bonfill.  Did  this  mean  that  it  was 
ended?  The  invitation  to  lunch  looked  like  it.  Mrs. 
Bonfill  believed  in  lunch  for  such  purposes.  In  view 
of  the  invitation  to  lunch,  Trix  said  nothing  about  the 
invitation  to  dinner. 

As  she  was  driven  from  Grosvenor  Square  to  the  flat 
by  the  river,  she  was  marvellously  content — enjoying 
still,  not  thinking,  wondering,  not  feeling,  making  in 
her  soul  material  and  sport  of  others,  herself  seeming 
not  subject  to  design  or  accident.  The  change  was 

24 


COMING    NEAR   THE    FIRE 

great  to  her;  the  ordinary  mood  of  youth  that  has 
known  only  good  fortune  seemed  to  her  the  most  won- 
derful of  transformations,  almost  incredible.  She  exult- 
ed in  it  and  gloated  over  the  brightness  of  her  days. 
What  of  others?  Well,  what  of  the  players  in  the  pan- 
tomime? Do  they  not  play  for  us?  What  more  do 
we  ask  of  or  about  them?  Trix  was  not  in  the  least 
inclined  to  be  busy  with  more  fortunes  than  her  own. 
For  this  was  the  thing — this  was  what  she  had  de- 
sired. 

How  had  she  come  to  desire  it  so  urgently  and  to 
take  it  with  such  recklessness?  The  words  of  the 
shabby  man  on  the  boulevards  came  back  to  her: 
"  Life  has  played  with  you ;  go  and  play  with  it.  You 
may  scorch  your  fingers,  for  the  fire  burns;  but  it's 
better  to  die  of  heat  than  of  cold." 

"Yes,  better  of  heat  than  of  cold,"  laughed  Trix 
Trevalla,  triumphantly,  and  she  added,  "If  there's 
anything  wrong,  why,  he's  responsible!"  She  was 
amused  both  at  the  idea  of  anything  being  wrong  and 
at  the  notion  of  holding  the  quiet,  shabby  man  respon- 
sible. There  could  be  no  link  between  his  life  and  the 
world  she  had  lived  in  that  night.  Yet  if  he  held  these 
views  about  the  way  to  treat  life,  why  did  he  not  live? 
He  had  said  he  hardly  lived,  he  only  worked.  Trix 
was  in  an  amused  puzzle  about  the  shabby  man  as 
she  got  into  bed ;  he  actually  put  the  party  and  its  great 
ballet  out  of  her  head. 


m 

IN  DANES  INN 

SOME  men  maintained  that  it  was  not  the  quantity, 
nor  the  quality,  nor  the  color  of  Peggy  Ryle's  hair 
that  did  the  mischief,  but  simply  and  solely  the  way 
•it  grew.  Perhaps  (for  the  opinion  of  men  in  such 
matters  is  eminently  and  consciously  fallible)  it  did 
not  grow  that  way  at  all,  but  was  arranged.  The 
result  to  the  eye  was  the  same — a  peculiar  harmony 
between  the  waves  of  the  hair,  the  turn  of  the  neck, 
and  the  set  of  the  head.  So  notable  and  individual  a 
thing  was  this  agreement  that  Arthur  Kane  and  Miles 
Childwick,  poet  and  critic,  were  substantially  at  one 
about  it.  Kane  described  it  as  "the  artistry  of  ac- 
cident," Childwick  lauded  its  "meditated  spontaneity." 
Neither  gentleman  was  ill  pleased  with  his  phrase, 
and  each  professed  a  polite  admiration  of  the  other's 
effort  —  these  civilities  are  necessary  in  literary  cir- 
cles. Other  young  men  painted  or  drew  the  hair  and 
the  neck  and  the  head  till  Peggy  complained  that 
her  other  features  were  neglected  most  disdainfull}T. 
Other  young  men  again,  not  endowed  with  the  gift  of 
expression  by  tongue  or  by  hand,  contented  themselves 
with  swelling  Peggy's  court.  She  did  not  mind  how 
much  they  swelled  it.  She  had  a  fine  versatility,  and 
could  be  flirted  with  in  rhyme,  in  polished  periods,  in 
modern  slang,  or  in  the  deaf-and-dumb  alphabet;  the 
heart  is,  of  course,  the  thing  in  such  a  matter,  various 

26 


IN    DANES   INN 

forms  of  expression  no  more  than  its  interpreters. 
Meanwhile  Peggy  learned  men  and  their  manners, 
caused  a  good  deal  of  picturesque  misery — published 
and  unpublished — and  immensely  increased  the  amen- 
ity of  life  wherever  she  went.  And  she  went  every- 
where, when  she  could  pay  a  cab  fare  and  contrive 
a  frock,  or  borrow  one  or  both  of  these  commodities. 
(Elfreda  Flood,  for  instance,  often  had  a  frock.)  She 
generally  returned  the  cab  fare,  and  you  could  usually 
regain  the  frock  by  personal  exertions ;  it  was  not  con- 
sidered the  correct  thing  to  ask  her  directly  for  either. 
She  had  an  income  of  forty  pounds  a  year,  and  pro- 
fessed to  be  about  to  learn  to  paint  in  real  earnest. 
There  was  also  an  uncle  in  Berlin  who  sent  checks  at 
rare  and  irregular  intervals.  When  a  check  came, 
Peggy  gave  a  dinner-party;  when  there  had  been  no 
check  for  a  long  while,  Peggy  accepted  a  dinner.  That 
was  all  the  difference  it  made.  And  anyhow  there  was 
always  bread-and-butter  to  be  had  at  Airey  Newton's. 
Airey  appeared  not  to  dine,  but  there  was  tea  and 
there  was  bread-and-butter — a  thing  worth  knowing 
now  and  then  to  Peggy  Ryle. 

She  had  been  acquainted  with  Airey  Newton  for 
two  years  —  almost  since  her  first  coming  to  London. 
Theirs  was  a  real  and  intimate  friendship,  and  her 
figure  was  familiar  to  the  dingy  house  whose  soft- 
stone  front  had  crumbled  into  a  premature  old  age. 
Airey  was  on  the  third  floor,  front  and  back;  two  very 
large  windows  adorned  his  sitting-room — it  was  neces- 
sary to  give  all  encouragement  and  opportunity  to  any 
light  that  found  its  way  into  the  gloomy  cul-de-sac. 
Many  an  afternoon  Peggy  sat  by  one  of  these  win- 
dows in  a  dilapidated  wicker  arm-chair,  watching  the 
type-writing  clerk  visible  through  the  corresponding 
big  window  opposite.  Sometimes  Airey  talked,  oftener 

27 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

he  went  on  with  his  work  as  though  she  were  not 
there;  she  liked  this  inattention  as  a  change.  But 
she  was  a  little  puzzled  over  that  work  of  his.  He 
had  told  her  that  he  was  an  inventor.  So  far  she  was 
content,  and  when  she  saw  him  busy  with  models  or 
working  out  sums  she  concluded  that  he  was  at  his 
trade.  It  did  not  appear  to  be  a  good  trade,  for  he 
was  shabby,  the  room  was  shabbier,  and  (as  has  been 
mentioned)  he  did  not,  so  far  as  her  observation  went, 
dine.  But  probably  it  kept  him  happy ;  she  had  always 
pictured  inventors  as  blissful  although  poverty-stricken 
persons.  The  work-table  then,  a  big  deal  one  which 
blocked  the  other  window,  was  intelligible  enough. 
The  mystery  lay  in  the  small  table  on  the  right  hand 
of  the  fireplace;  under  it  stood  a  Chubb's  safe,  and  on 
it  reposed  a  large  book  covered  in  red  leather  and 
fastened  with  a  padlock.  She  had  never  seen  either 
book  or  safe  open,  and  when  she  had  asked  what  was 
in  them,  Airey  told  her  a  little  story  about  a  Spartan 
who  was  carrying  something  under  his  cloak — a  mode 
of  retort  which  rather  annoyed  her.  So  she  inquired 
no  more.  But  she  was  sure  that  the  locks  were  un- 
fastened when  she  was  gone.  What  was  there?  Was 
he  writing  a  great  book?  Or  did  he  own  ancestral 
plate?  Or  precious  —  and  perhaps  scandalous  —  docu- 
ments? Something  precious  there  must  be;  the  hand- 
someness of  the  book,  the  high  polish  by  which  the 
metal  of  the  safe  shamed  the  surrounding  dustiness, 
stood  out  sure  signs  and  proofs  of  that. 

Peggy  had  just  bought  a  new  frock — and  paid  for  it 
under  some  pressure — and  a  check  had  not  come  for 
ever  so  long;  so  she  ate  bread-and-butter  steadily  and 
happily,  interrupting  herself  only  to  pour  out  more  tea. 
At  last  Airey  pushed  away  his  papers  and  models, 
saying,  "That's  done,  thank  Heaven!"  and  got  up  to 

28 


IN    DANES   INN 

light  his  pipe.  Peggy  poured  out  a  cup  of  tea  for  him, 
and  he  came  across  the  room  for  it.  He  looked  much 
as  when  he  had  met  Trix  Trevalla  in  Paris,  but  his 
hair  was  shorter  and  his  beard  trimmed  close  and  cut 
to  a  point;  these  improvements  were  due  to  Peggy's 
reiterated  entreaties. 

"Well?"  he  asked,  standing  before  her,  his  eyes 
twinkling  kindly. 

"Times  are  hard,  but  the  heart  is  light,  Airey.  I've 
been  immortalized  in  a  sonnet — '' 

"Dissected  in  an  essay  too?"  he  suggested  with 
ironical  admiration. 

"I  don't  recognize  myself  there.  And  I've  had  an 
offer—" 

"Another?" 

"Not  that  sort — an  offer  of  a  riding-horse.  But  I 
haven't  got  a  habit." 

"Nor  a  stable,  perhaps?" 

"No,  nor  a  stable.  I  didn't  think  of  that.  And 
you,  Airey?" 

"Barring  the  horse  and  the  sonnet  and  the  essay 
I'm  much  as  you  are,  Peggy." 

She  threw  her  head  back  a  little  and  looked  at  him; 
her  tone,  while  curious,  was  also  slightly  compassion- 
ate. 

"  I  suppose  you  get  some  money  for  your  things  some- 
times?" she  asked.  "  I  mean,  when  you  invent  a — a — 
well,  say  a  corkscrew,  they  give  you  something?" 

"Of  course.  I  make  my  living  that  way."  He 
smiled  faintly  at  the  involuntary  glance  from  Peggy's 
eyes,  that  played  round  the  room.  "Yesterday's 
again!"  he  exclaimed,  suddenly,  taking  up  the  loaf. 
"I  told  Mrs.  Stryver  I  wouldn't  have  a  yesterday's!" 
His  tone  was  indignant;  he  seemed  anxious  to  vindi- 
cate himself. 

29 


THE   INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

"It  won't  be  to-morrow's,  anyhow/'  laughed  Peggy, 
regarding  the  remaining  and  much  diminished  frag- 
ment in  his  hand.  "It  wasn't  badly  stale." 

Airey  took  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth  and  spoke  with 
the  abruptness  of  a  man  who  has  just  made  up  his 
mind  to  speak. 

"Do  you  know  a  Mrs.  Trevalla?"  he  asked. 

"Oh  yes;  by  sight  very  well." 

"How  does  she  strike  you?" 

"  Well — certainly  pretty ;  probably  clever ;  perhaps — 
Is  she  a  friend  of  yours?" 

"I've  known  about  her  a  long  while,  and  met  her 
once." 

"Once!     Well,  then,  perhaps  unscrupulous." 

"Why  do  you  think  she's  unscrupulous?" 

"Why  do  you  ask  me  about  her?"  retorted  Peggy. 

"  She's  written  to  me,  proposing  to  come  and  see  me. " 

"Have  you  asked  her?  I  can't  have  you  having  a 
lot  of  visitors,  you  know.  I  come  here  for  quiet." 

Airey  looked  a  little  embarrassed.  "Well,  I  did 
give  her  a  sort  of  general  invitation,"  he  murmured, 
fingering  his  beard.  "  That  is,  I  told  her  to  come  if — 
if  she  was  in  any  difficulty."  He  turned  an  appealing 
glance  towards  Peggy's  amused  face.  "Have  you 
heard  of  her  being  in  any  difficulty?" 

"No,  but  I  should  think  it's  not  at  all  unlikely." 

"Why?" 

"Have  you  ever  had  two  people  in  love  with  you 
at  the  same  time?" 

"Never,  on  my  honor,"  said  Airey,  with  obvious 
sincerity. 

"If  you  had,  and  if  you  were  as  pleasant  as  you 
could  be  to  both  of  them,  and  kept  them  going  by 
turns,  and  got  all  you  could  out  of  both  of  them,  and 
,kept  on  like  that  for  about  two  months — " 

30 


IN    DANES    INN 

"Oh,  that's  how  the  land  lies,  is  it?" 

"  Don't  you  think  it  possible  you  might  be  in  a  dif- 
ficulty some  day?" 

"But,  good  Heavens!  that's  not  the  sort  of  thing 
to  bring  to  me." 

"  Apparently  Mrs.  Trevalla  thinks  differently," 
laughed  Peggy.  "  At  least,  1  can't  think  of  any  other 
difficulty  she's  likely  to  be  in." 

Airey  was  obviously  disturbed  and  displeased. 

"If  what  you  say  is  true,"  he  observed,  "she  can't 
be  a  good  sort  of  woman." 

"1  suppose  not."  Peggy's  admission  sounded  rath- 
er reluctant. 

"Who  are  the  two  men?" 

"Lord  Mervyn  and  Beaufort  Chance." 

"M.P.'s,  aren't  they?" 

"  Among  other  things,  Airey.  Well,  you  can't  tell 
her  not  to  come,  can  you?  After  that  sort  of  general 
invitation,  you  know."  Peggy's  tone  was  satirical; 
she  had  rather  strong  views  as  to  the  way  in  which 
men  made  fools  of  themselves  over  women — or  some- 
times said  she  had. 

"I  was  an  old  friend  of  her  husband's." 

"Oh,  you've  nothing  to  apologize  for.  When  does 
she  want  to  come?" 

"To-morrow.  I  say,  oughtn't  I  to  offer  to  go  and 
call  on  her?" 

"She'd  think  that  very  dull  in  comparison,"  Peggy 
assured  him.  "Let  her  come  and  sob  out  her  trouble 
here." 

"You  appear  to  be  taking  the  matter  in  a  flippant 
spirit,  Peggy." 

"I  don't  think  I'm  going  to  be  particularly  sorry 
if  Mrs.  Trevalla  is  in  a  bit  of  a  scrape." 

"You  young  women  are  so  moral." 

31 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"I  don't  care,"  said  Peggy,  defiantly. 

"Women  have  an  extraordinary  gift  for  disliking 
one  another  on  sight,"  mused  Airey,  in  an  injured 
voice. 

"You  seemed  to  have  liked  Mrs.  Trevalla  a  good 
deal  on  sight." 

"She  looked  so  sad,  so  solitary,  a  mere  girl  in  her 
widow's  weeds."  His  tone  grew  compassionate,  al- 
most tender,  as  he  recalled  the  forlorn  figure  which  had 
timidly  stolen  into  the  dining-room  of  the  Paris  hotel. 

"  You'll  find  her  a  little  bit  changed,  perhaps,"  Peggy 
suggested,  with  a  suppressed  malice  that  found  pleas- 
ure in  anticipating  his  feelings. 

"Oh,  well,  she  must  come  anyhow,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  let  her  come,  Airey.  It  does  these  people 
good  to  see  how  the  poor  live." 

Airey  laughed,  but  not  very  heartily.  However, 
it  was  well  understood  that  everybody  in  their  circle 
was  very  poor,  and  Peggy  felt  no  qualms  about  re- 
ferring to  the  fact. 

"I  shall  come  the  next  day  and  hear  all  about  the 
interview.  Fancy  these  interesting  things  happening 
to  you!  Because,  you  know,  she's  rather  famous. 
Mrs.  Bonfill  has  taken  her  up,  and  the  Glentorlys 
are  devoted  to  her,  and  Lady  Blixworth  has  said  some 
of  her  best  things  about  her.  She'll  bring  you  into 
touch  with  fashion." 

"Hang  fashion!"  said  Airey.  "I  wonder  what 
her  difficulty  is?"  He  seemed  quite  preoccupied  with 
the  idea  of  Mrs.  Trevalla's  difficulty. 

"I  see  you're  going  to  be  very  romantic  indeed," 
laughed  Peggy  Ryle. 

His  eyes  dwelt  on  her  for  a  moment,  and  a  very 
friendly  expression  filled  them. 

"Don't  you  get  into  any  difficulties?"  he  said. 

32 


IN    DANES    INN 

"There's  never  but  one  with  me,"  she  laughed; 
'  and  that  doesn't  hurt,  Airey." 

There  was  a  loud  and  cheerful  knock  on  the  door. 

"  Visitors !  When  people  come,  how  do  you  ac- 
count for  me?" 

"I  say  nothing.  I  believe  you're  taken  for  my 
daughter." 

"  Not  since  you  trimmed  your  beard !  Well,  it  doesn't 
matter,  does  it?  Let  him  in." 

The  visitor  proved  to  be  nobody  to  whom  Peggy 
needed  to  be  accounted  for;  he  was  Tommy  Trent, 
the  smart,  trim  young  man  who  had  danced  with  her 
at  Mrs.  Bonfill's  party. 

"You  here  again!"  he  exclaimed  in  tones  of  grave 
censure  as  he  laid  down  his  hat  on  the  top  of  the  red- 
leather  book  on  the  little  table.  He  blew  on  the  book 
first,  to  make  sure  it  was  not  dusty. 

Peggy  smiled,  and  Airey  relit  his  pipe.  Tommy 
walked  across  and  looked  at  the  debris  of  the  loaf. 
He  shook  his  head  when  Peggy  offered  him  tea. 

A  sudden  idea  seemed  to  occur  to  him. 

"I'm  awfully  glad  to  find  you  here,"  he  remarked 
to  her.  "  It  saves  me  going  up  to  your  place,  as  1 
meant.  I've  got  some  people  dining  to-night,  and  one 
of  them's  failed.  1  wonder  if  you'd  come?  1  know 
it's  a  bore  coming  again  so  soon,  but — " 

"1  haven't  been  since  Saturday." 

"But  it  would  get  me  out  of  a  hole."  He  spoke 
in  humble  entreaty. 

"I'd  come  directly,  but  I'm  engaged." 

Tommy  looked  at  her  sorrowfull}7  and,  it  must  be 
added,  sceptically. 

"Engaged  to  dinner  and  supper,"  averred  Peggy, 
with  emphasis,  as  she  pulled  her  hat  straight  and 
put  on  her  gloves. 

33 


THE    INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

"  You  wouldn't  even  look  in  between  the  two  and 
— and  have  an  ice  with  us?" 

"1  really  can't  eat  three  meals  in  one  evening, 
Tommy." 

"Oh,  chuck  one  of  them.     You  might,  for  once!" 

"Impossible!  I'm  dining  with  my  oldest  friend/' 
smiled  Peggy.  "I  simply  can't."  She  turned  to 
Airey,  giving  him  her  hand,  with  a  laugh.  "I  like 
you  best,  because  you  just  let  me — " 

Both  words  and  laughter  died  away;  she  stopped 
abruptly,  looking  from  one  man  to  the  other.  There 
was  something  in  their  faces  that  arrested  her  words 
and  her  merriment.  She  could  not  analyze  what  it 
was,  but  she  saw  that  she  had  made  both  of  them 
uncomfortable.  They  had  guessed  what  she  was 
going  to  say;  it  would  have  been  painful  to  one  of 
them,  and  the  other  knew  it.  But  whom  had  she 
wounded — Tommy  by  implying  that  his  hospitality 
was  importunate  and  his  kindness  clumsy,  or  Airey 
by  a  renewed  reference  to  his  poverty  as  shown  in  the 
absence  of  pressing  invitations  from  him?  She  could 
not  tell ;  but  a  constraint  had  fallen  on  them  both. 
She  cut  her  farewell  short  and  went  away,  vaguely 
vexed  and  penitent  for  an  offence  which  she  perceived 
but  did  not  understand. 

The  two  men  stood  listening  a  moment  to  her  light 
footfall  on  the  stairs. 

"  It's  all  a  lie,  you  know,"  said  Tommy.  "  She  isn't 
engaged  to  dinner,  or  to  supper  either.  It's  beastly, 
that's  what  it  is." 

"  Yours  was  all  a  lie,  too,  I  suppose?"  Airey  spoke 
in  a  dull,  hard  voice. 

"  Of  course  it  was,  but  I  could  have  beaten  somebody 
up  in  time,  or  said  they'd  caught  influenza,  or  been 
given  a  box  at  the  opera,  or  something." 

34 


IN    DANES    INN 

Airey  sat  down  by  the  fireplace,  his  chin  sunk  on 
his  necktie.  He  seemed  unhappy  and  rather  ashamed. 
Tommy  glanced  at  him  with  a  puzzled  look,  shook 
his  head,  and  then  broke  into  a  smile,  as  though,  in 
the  end,  the  only  thing  for  it  was  to  be  amused.  Then 
he  drew  a  long  envelope  from  his  pocket. 

"  I've  brought  the  certificates  along,"  he  said.  "  Here 
they  are.  Two  thousand.  Just  look  at  them.  It's 
a  good  thing;  and  if  you  sit  on  it  for  a  bit,  it'll  pay 
for  keeping."  He  laid  the  envelope  on  the  small  table 
by  Airey's  side,  took  up  his  hat,  put  it  on,  and  lit  a 
cigarette  as  he  repeated,  "  Just  see  they're  all  right, 
old  chap." 

"They're  sure  to  be  right."  Airey  shifted  uncom- 
fortably in  his  chair  and  pulled  at  his  empty  pipe. 

Tommy  tilted  his  hat  far  back  on  his  head,  turned 
a  chair  back  foremost,  and  sat  down  on  it,  facing  his 
friend. 

"I'm  your  business  man,"  he  remarked.  "I  do 
your  business  and  I  hold  my  tongue  about  it.  Don't 
1?" 

"Like  the  tomb,"  Airey  acknowledged. 

"  And — well,  at  any  rate  let  me  congratulate  you  on 
the  bread-and-butter.  Only — only,  I  say,  she'd  have 
dined  with  you,  if  you'd  asked  her,  Airey." 

His  usually  composed  and  unemotional  voice  shook 
for  an  almost  imperceptible  moment. 

"I  know,"  said  Airey  Newton.  He  rose,  unlocked 
the  safe,  and  threw  the  long  envelope  in.  Then  he 
unlocked  the  red-leather  book,  took  a  pen,  made  a 
careful  entry  in  it,  relocked  it,  and  returned  to  his 
chair.  He  said  nothing  more,  but  he  glanced  once  at 
Tommy  Trent  in  a  timid  way.  Tommy  smiled  back  in 
recovered  placidity.  Then  they  began  to  talk  of  in- 
ventions, patents,  processes,  companies,  stocks,  shares, 

35 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

and  all  manner  of  things  that  produce  or  have  to  do 
with  money. 

"So  far,  so  good,"  ended  Tommy.  "And  if  the 
oxygen  process  proves  commercially  practicable — it's 
all  right  in  theory,  I  know — I  fancy  you  may  look 
for  something  big."  He  threw  away  his  cigarette 
and  stood  up,  as  if  to  go.  But  he  lingered  a  moment, 
and  a  touch  of  embarrassment  affected  his  manner. 
Airey  had  quite  recovered  his  confidence  and  happi- 
ness during  the  talk  on  money  matters. 

"  She  didn't  tell  you  any  news,  I  suppose?"  Tommy 
asked. 

"  What,  Peggy?  No,  I  don't  think  so.  Well,  noth- 
ing about  herself,  anyhow." 

"It's  uncommonly  wearing  for  me,"  Tommy  com- 
plained, with  a  pathetic  look  on  his  clear-cut,  healthy 
countenance.  "I  know  1  must  play  a  waiting  game; 
if  1  said  anything  to  her  now  1  shouldn't  have  a 
chance.  So  1  have  to  stand  by  and  see  the  other 
fellows  make  the  running.  By  Jove!  1  lie  awake  at 
nights  —  some  nights,  anyhow  —  imagining  infernally 
handsome  poets.  Old  Arty  Kane  isn't  handsome, 
though!  1  say,  Airey,  don't  you  think  she's  got  too 
much  sense  to  marry  a  poet?  You  told  me  1  must 
touch  her  imagination.  Do  1  look  like  touching 
anybody's  imagination?  I'm  about  as  likely  to  do 
it  as — as  you  are."  His  attitude  towards  the  sug- 
gested achievement  wavered  between  envy  and  scorn. 

Airey  endured  this  outburst,  and  its  concluding  in- 
sinuation, with  unruffled  patience.  He  was  at  his 
pipe  again,  and  puffed  out  wisdom  securely  vague. 

"  You  can't  tell  with  a  girl.  It  takes  them  all  at 
once  sometimes.  Up  to  now  1  think  it's  all  right." 

"  Not  Arty  Kane?" 

"Lord,  no!" 

36 


"Nor  Child  wick?  He's  a  clever  chap,  Child  wick. 
Not  got  a  sou,  of  course;  she'd  starve  just  the  same." 

"She'd  have  done  it  before  if  it  had  been  going  to 
be  Miles  Childwick." 

"She'll  meet  some  devilish  fascinating  chap  some 
day,  1  know  she  will." 

"He'll  ill  use  her,  perhaps,"  Airey  suggested,  hope- 
fully. 

"Then  1  shall  nip  in,  you  mean?  Have  you  been 
treating  yourself  to  Drury  Lane?" 

Airey  laughed  openly,  and  presently  Tommy  himself 
joined  in,  though  in  a  rather  rueful  fashion. 

"Why  the  deuce  can't  we  just  like  'em?"  he  asked. 

"That  would  be  all  right  on  the  pessimistic  theory 
of  the  world." 

"Oh,  hang  the  world!  Well,  good-bye,  old  chap. 
I'm  glad  you  approve  of  what  I've  done  about  the  busi- 
ness." 

His  reference  to  the  business  seemed  to  renew  Airey 
Newton's  discomfort.  He  looked  at  his  friend,  and 
after  a  long  pause  said,  solemnly,  "Tommy  Trent!" 

"Yes,  Airey  Newton!" 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me — man  to  man — how 
you  contrive  to  be  my  friend?" 

"What?" 

"You're  the  only  man  who  knows — and  you're  my 
only  real  friend." 

"  1  regard  it  as  just  like  drinking,"  Tommy  explained, 
after  a  minute's  thought.  "  You're  the  deuce  of  a  good 
fellow  in  every  other  way.  1  hope  you'll  be  cured  some 
day,  too.  1  may  live  to  see  you  bankrupt  yet." 

"I  work  for  it.     I  work  hard  and  usefully." 

"And  even  brilliantly,"  added  Tommy. 

"It's  mine.  1  haven't  robbed  anybody.  And  no- 
body has  any  claim  on  me." 

37 


THE    INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"1  didn't  introduce  this  discussion."  Tommy  was 
evidently  pained.  He  held  out  his  hand  to  take  leave. 

"It's  an  extraordinary  thing,  but  there  it  is,"  mused 
Airey.  He  took  Tommy's  hand  and  said,  "On  my 
honor,  I'll  ask  her  to  dinner." 

"Where?"  inquired  Tommy,  in  a  suspicious  tone. 

Airey  hesitated. 

"Magnifique!"  said  Tommy,  firmly  and  relentlessly. 

"Yes,  the — the  Magnifique,"  agreed  Airey,  after  an- 
other pause. 

"  Delighted,  old  man!"  He  waited  a  moment  longer, 
but  Airey  Newton  did  not  fix  a  date. 

Airey  was  left  sorrowful,  for  he  loved  Tommy  Trent. 
Though  Tommy  knew  his  secret,  still  he  loved  him — a 
fact  that  may  go  to  the  credit  of  both  men.  Many  a  man 
in  Airey's  place  would  have  hated  Tommy,  even  while 
he  used  and  relied  on  him;  for  Tommy's  knowledge 
put  Airey  to  shame — a  shame  he  could  not  stifle  any 
more  than  he  could  master  the  thing  that  gave  it  birth. 

Certainly  Tommy  deserved  not  to  be  hated,  for  he 
was  very  loyal.  He  showed  that  only  two  days  later, 
and  at  a  cost  to  himself.  He  was  dining  with  Peggy 
Ryle — not  she  with  him,  for  a  check  had  arrived,  and 
they  celebrated  its  coming.  Tommy,  in  noble  spirits 
(the  coming  of  a  check  was  as  great  an  event  to  him 
as  to  Peggy  herself),  told  her  how  he  had  elicited  the 
offer  of  a  dinner  from  Airey  Newton;  he  chuckled  in 
pride  over  it. 

How  men  misjudge  things!  Peggy  sat  up  straight 
in  her  chair  and  flushed  up  to  the  outward  curve  of  her 
hair. 

"  How  dare  you?"  she  cried.  "  As  if  he  hadn't  done 
enough  for  me  already!  I  must  have  eaten  pounds  of 
butter — of  mere  butter  alone!  You  know  he  can't 
afford  to  give  dinners." 

38 


IN    DANES    INN 

Besides  anger,  there  was  a  hint  of  pride  in  her  em- 
phasis on  "dinners." 

"I  believe  he  can,"  said  Tommy,  with  the  air  of 
offering  a  hardy  conjecture. 

"I  know  he  can't,  or  of  course  he  would.  Do  you 
intend  to  tell  me  that  Airey — Airey  of  all  men — is 
mean?" 

"  Oh  no,  1—1  don't  say—" 

"  It's  you  that's  mean !  1  never  knew  you  do  such  a 
thing  before.  You've  quite  spoiled  my  pleasure  this 
evening."  She  looked  at  him  sternly.  "1  don't  like 
you  at  all  to-night.  I'm  very  grievously  disappointed 
in  you." 

Temptation  raged  in  Tommy  Trent ;  he  held  it  down 
manfully. 

"Well,  1  don't  suppose  he'll  give  the  dinner,  any- 
how," he  remarked,  morosely. 

"No,  because  he  can't;  but  you'll  have  made  him 
feel  miserable  about  it.  What  time  is  it?  I  think  I 
shall  go  home." 

"Look  here,  Peggy,  you  aren't  doing  me  justice." 

"Well,  what  have  you  got  to  say?" 

Tommy,  smoking  for  a  moment  or  two,  looked  across 
at  her  and  answered,  "Nothing." 

She  rose  and  handed  him  her  purse. 

"Pay  the  bill,  please,  and  mind  you  give  the  waiter 
half  a  crown.  And  ask  him  to  call  me  a  cab,  please." 

"It's  only  half  a  mile,  and  it's  quite  fine." 

"A  rubber- tired  hansom,  please,  with  a  good  horse." 

Tommy  put  her  into  the  cab,  and  looked  as  if  he 
would  like  to  get  in,  too.  The  cabman,  generalizing 
from  observed  cases,  held  the  reins  out  of  the  way, 
that  Tommy's  tall  hat  might  mount  in  safety. 

"Tell  him  where  to  go,  please.     Good-night,"  said 

Peggy. 

39 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

Tommy  was  left  on  the  pavement.  He  walked  slowly 
along  to  his  club,  too  upset  to  think  of  having  a  cigar. 

"Very  well,"  he  remarked,  as  he  reached  his  desti- 
nation. "I  played  fair,  but  old  Airey  shall  give  that 
dinner — I'm  hanged  if  he  sha'n't! — and  do  it  as  if  he 
liked  it,  too!" 

A  vicious  chuckle  surprised  the  hall  porter  as  Tom- 
my passed  within  the  precincts. 

Peggy  drove  home,  determined  to  speak  plainly  to 
Airey  himself ;  that  was  the  only  way  to  put  it  right. 

"  He  shall  know  that  1  do  him  justice,  anyhow,"  said 
she.  Thanks  to  the  check,  she  was  feeling  as  the  rich 
feel,  or  should  feel,  towards  those  who  have  helped 
them  in  early  days  of  struggle.  She  experienced  a 
generous  glow,  and  meditated  delicate  benevolence. 
At  least  the  bread-and-butter  must  be  recouped  a  hun- 
dredfold. 

So  great  is  the  virtue  of  twenty  pounds,  if  only  they 
happen  to  be  sent  to  the  right  address.  Most  money, 
however,  seems  to  go  astray. 


IV 

FROM  THE  MIDST  OF  THE  WHIRL 

"  T^EALLY,  1  must  congratulate  you  on  your  latest, 

1\ Sarah/'  remarked  Lady  Blixworth,  who  was  tak- 
ing tea  with  Mrs.  Bonfill.  "  Trix  Trevalla  is  carrying 
everything  before  her.  The  Glentorlys  have  had  her 
to  meet  Lord  Farringham,  and  he  was  delighted.  The 
men  adore  her,  and  they  do  say  women  like  her.  All 
done  in  six  weeks!  You're  a  genius!" 

Mrs.  Bonfill  made  a  deprecatory  gesture  of  a  Non 
nobis  order.  Her  friend  insisted  amiably : 

"  Oh  yes,  you  are.  You  choose  so  well.  You  never 
make  a  mistake.  Now,  do  tell  me  what's  going  to 
happen.  Does  Mortimer  Mervyn  mean  it?  Of  course 
she  wouldn't  hesitate." 

Mrs.  Bonfill  looked  at  her  volatile  friend  with  a  good- 
humored  distrust. 

"  When  you  congratulate  me,  Viola,"  she  said, "  1  gen- 
erally expect  to  hear  that  something  has  gone  wrong." 

"Oh,  you  believe  what  you're  told  about  me,"  the 
accused  lady  murmured,  plaintively. 

"It's  experience,"  persisted  Mrs.  Bonfill.  "Have 
you  anything  that  you  think  1  sha'n't  like  to  tell  me 
about  Trix  Trevalla?" 

"  1  don't  suppose  you'll  dislike  it,  but  I  should.  Need 
she  drive  in  the  park  with  Mrs.  Fricker?"  Her  smile 
contradicted  the  regret  of  her  tone,  as  she  spread  her 
hands  out  in  affected  surprise  and  appeal. 

41 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"  Mrs.  Pricker's  a  very  decent  sort  of  woman,  Viola. 
You  have  a  prejudice  against  her/' 

"Yes,  thank  Heaven!  We  all  want  money  nowa- 
days, but  for  my  part  I'd  starve  sooner  than  get  it  from 
the  Prickers." 

''Oh,  that's  what  you  want  me  to  believe?" 

"Dearest  Sarah,  no!  That's  what  I'm  afraid  her 
enemies  and  yours  will  say." 

"I  see,"  smiled  Mrs.  Bonfill,  indulgently.  She  al- 
ways acknowledged  that  Viola  was  neat — as  a  siege- 
gun  might  admit  it  of  the  field  artillery. 

"Couldn't  you  give  her  a  hint?  The  gossip  about 
Beaufort  Chance  doesn't  so  much  matter,  but — "  Lady 
Blixworth  looked  as  if  she  expected  to  be  interrupted, 
even  pausing  an  instant  to  allow  the  opportunity. 
Mrs.  Bonfill  obliged  her. 

"There's  gossip  about  Beaufort,  is  there?" 

"Oh,  there  is,  of  course;  that  can't  be  denied;  but  it 
really  doesn't  matter  as  long  as  Mortimer  doesn't  hear 
about  it." 

"  Was  there  never  more  than  one  aspirant  at  a  time 
when  you  were  young?" 

"As  long  as  you're  content,  1  am,"  Lady  Blixworth 
declared,  in  an  injured  manner.  "It's  not  my  busi- 
ness what  Mrs.  Trevalla  does." 

"  Don't  be  huffy,"  was  Mrs.  Bonfill's  maternal  advice. 
"  As  far  as  I  can  see,  everything  is  going  splendidly." 

"Is  it  to  be  Mortimer?" 

"How  can  1  tell,  my  dear?  If  Mortimer  Mervyn 
should  ask  my  advice,  which  really  isn't  likely,  what 
could  I  say  except  that  Trix  is  a  charming  woman, 
and  that  1  know  of  nothing  against  it?" 

"She  must  be  very  well  off,  by  the  way  she  does 
things."  There  was  an  inflection  of  question  in  her 
voice,  but  no  direct  interrogatory. 

42 


FROM    THE    MIDST    OF    THE    WHIRI, 

"Doubtless,"  said  Mrs.  Bonfill.  Often  the  craftiest 
suggestions  failed  in  face  of  her  broad  imperturba- 
bility. 

Lady  Blixworth  smiled  at  her.  Mrs.  Bonfill  shook 
her  head  in  benign  rebuke.  The  two  understood  each 
other,  and  on  the  whole  liked  each  other  very  well. 

"All  right,  Sarah/'  said  Lady  Blixworth,  "but  if 
you  want  my  opinion,  it  is  that  she's  outrunning  the 
constable,  unless — " 

"Well,  go  on." 

"You  give  me  leave?  You  won't  order  me  out?  Well, 
unless —  Well,  as  I  said,  why  drive  Mrs.  Fricker 
round  the  park?  Why  take  Connie  Fricker  to  the 
Quinby-Lees'  dance?" 

"Oh,  everybody  goes  to  the  Quinby-Lees'.  She 
never  offered  to  bring  them  here  or  anywhere  that 
matters." 

"You  know  the  difference;  perhaps  the  Frickers 
don't." 

"  That's  downright  malicious,  Viola.  And  of  course 
they  do;  at  least  they  have  to  find  it  out.  No,  you 
can't  put  me  out  of  conceit  with  Trix  Trevalla." 

"You're  so  loyal,"  murmured  Lady  Blixworth,  in 
admiration.  "  Really  Sarah's  as  blind  as  a  bat  some- 
times," she  reflected  as  she  got  into  her  carriage. 

A  world  of  people  at  once  inquisitive  and  clear-sight- 
ed would  render  necessary  either  moral  perfection  or 
reckless  defiance;  indifference  and  obtuseness  pre- 
serve a  place  for  that  mediocrity  of  conduct  which 
characterizes  the  majority.  Society  at  large  had 
hitherto  found  small  fault  with  Trix  Trevalla,  and 
what  it  said,  when  passed  through  Lady  Blixworth's 
resourceful  intellect,  gained  greatly  both  in  volume 
and  in  point.  No  doubt  she  had  very  many  gowns, 
no  doubt  she  spent  money,  certainly  she  flirted,  possibly 

43 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

she  was,  for  so  young  and  pretty  a  woman,  a  trifle 
indiscreet.  But  she  gave  the  impression  of  being 
able  to  take  care  of  herself,  and  her  attractions,  com- 
bined with  Mrs.  BonnH's  unwavering  patronage, 
would  have  sufficed  to  excuse  more  errors  than  she 
had  been  found  guilty  of.  It  was  actually  true  that, 
while  men  admired,  women  liked  her.  There  was 
hardly  a  discordant  voice  to  break  in  harshly  on  her 
triumph. 

There  is  no  place  like  the  top — especially  when  it 
is  narrow  and  will  not  hold  many  at  a  time.  The 
natives  of  it  have  their  peculiar  joy,  those  who  have 
painfully  climbed  theirs.  Trix  Trevalla  seemed,  to 
herself  at  least,  very  near  the  top ;  if  she  were  not  quite 
on  it,  she  could  put  her  head  up  over  the  last  ledge 
and  see  it,  and  feel  that  with  one  more  hoist  she  would 
be  able  to  land  herself  there.  It  is  unnecessary  to 
recite  the  houses  she  went  to,  and  would  be  (save  for 
the  utter  lack  of  authority  such  a  list  would  have) 
invidious;  it  would  be  tiresome  to  retail  compliments 
and  conquests.  But  the  smallest,  choicest  gather- 
ings began  to  know  her,  and  houses  which  were  not 
fashionable,  but  something  much  beyond  —  eternal 
pillars  supporting  London  society  —  welcomed  her. 
This  was  no  success  of  curiosity,  of  whim,  of  a  season  ; 
it  was  the  establishment  of  a  position  for  life.  From 
the  purely  social  point  of  view,  even  a  match  with 
Mervyn  could  do  little  more.  So  Trix  was  tempted 
to  declare  in  her  pride. 

But  the  case  had  other  aspects,  of  course.  It  was 
all  something  of  a  struggle,  however  victorious;  it 
may  be  supposed  that  generally  it  is.  Security  is  hard 
to  believe  in,  and  there  is  always  a  craving  to  make 
the  strong  position  impregnable.  Life  alone  at  twen- 
ty-six is — lonely.  These  things  were  in  her  mind, 

44 


FROM    THE    MIDST    OF    THE    WHIRL 

as  they  might  have  been  in  the  thoughts  of  any  woman 
so  placed.  There  was  another  consideration,  more 
special  to  herself,  which  could  not  be  excluded  from 
view:  she  had  begun  to  realize  what  her  manner  of 
life  cost.  Behold  her  sitting  before  books  and  bills 
that  revealed  the  truth  beyond  possibility  of  error 
or  of  gloss!  Lady  Blixworth's  instinct  had  not  been 
at  fault.  Trix's  mouth  grew  rather  hard  again,  and 
her  eyes  coldly  resolute,  as  she  studied  these  disagree- 
able documents. 

From  such  studies  she  had  arisen  to  go  to  dinner 
with  Beaufort  Chance  and  to  meet  the  Prickers.  She 
sat  next  Fricker,  and  talked  to  him  most  of  the  time, 
while  Beaufort  was  very  attentive  to  Mrs.  Fricker, 
and  the  young  man  who  had  been  procured  for  Connie 
Fricker  fulfilled  his  appointed  function.  Fricker  was 
not  a  bad-looking  man,  and  was  better  bred  and  less 
aggressive  than  his  wife  or  daughter.  Trix  found 
him  not  so  disagreeable  as  she  had  expected;  she 
encouraged  him  to  talk  on  his  own  subjects,  and  began 
to  find  him  interesting;  by  the  end  of  dinner  she  had 
discovered  that  he,  or  at  least  his  conversation,  was 
engrossing.  The  old  theme  of  making  money  with- 
out working  for  it,  by  gaming  or  betting,  by  chance 
or  speculation,  by  black  magic  or  white,  is  ever  attrac- 
tive to  the  children  of  men.  Fricker  could  talk  very 
well  about  it;  he  produced  the  impression  that  it  was 
exceedingly  easy  to  be  rich;  it  seemed  to  be  anybody's 
own  fault  if  he  were  poor.  Only  at  the  end  did  he 
throw  in  any  qualifications  of  this  broad  position. 

"Of  course  you  must  know  the  ropes,  or  find  some- 
body who  does." 

"There's  the  rub,  Mr.  Fricker.  Don't  people  who 
know  them  generally  keep  their  knowledge  to  them- 
selves?" 

45 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

" They've  a  bit  to  spare  for  their  friends  sometimes." 
His  smile  was  quietly  reflective. 

Beaufort  Chance  had  hinted  that  some  such  benevo- 
lent sentiments  might  be  found  to  animate  Mr.  Fricker. 
He  had  even  used  the  idea  as  a  bait  to  lure  Trix  to 
the  dinner.  Do  what  she  would,  she  could  not  help 
giving  Fricker  a  glance,  half  grateful,  half  provoca- 
tive. Vanity — new-born  of  her  great  triumph — made 
her  feel  that  her  presence  there  was  really  a  thing  to 
be  repaid.  Her  study  of  those  documents  tempted 
her  to  listen  when  the  suggestion  of  repayment  came. 
In  the  drawing-room  Trix  found  herself  inviting  Mrs. 
Fricker  to  call.  Youthful  experiences  made  Trix 
socially  tolerant  in  one  direction  if  she  were  socially 
ambitious  in  another.  She  had  none  of  Lady  Blix- 
worth's  shudders,  and  was  ready  to  be  nice  to  Mrs. 
Fricker.  Still  her  laugh  was  conscious  and  she 
blushed  a  little  when  Beaufort  Chance  thanked  her 
for  making  herself  so  pleasant. 

All  through  the  month  there  were  renewed  and 
continual  rumors  of  what  the  Tsar  meant  to  do.  A 
speech  by  Lord  Farringham  might  seem  to  dispose 
of  them,  but  there  were  people  who  did  not  trust  Lord 
Farringham — who,  in  fact,  knew  better.  There  were 
telegrams  from  abroad,  there  were  mysterious  para- 
graphs claiming  an  authority  too  high  to  be  disclosed 
to  the  vulgar,  there  were  leaders  asking  whether  it 
were  actually  the  fact  that  nothing  was  going  to  be 
done;  there  was  an  agitation  about  the  navy,  an- 
other final  exposure  of  the  methods  of  the  War  Office, 
and  philosophic  attacks  on  the  system  of  party  gov- 
ernment. Churchmen  began  to  say  that  they  were  also 
patriots,  and  dons  to  remind  the  country  that  they  were 
citizens.  And — in  the  end — what  did  the  Tsar  mean 
to  do?  That  potentate  gave  no  sign.  What  of  that? 

46 


FROM    THE    MIDST    OF    THE    WHIRL 

Had  not  generals  uttered  speeches  and  worked  out  pro- 
fessional problems?  Lord  Glentorly  ordered  extensive 
manreuvres  and  bade  the  country  rely  on  him.  The 
country  seemed  a  little  doubtful ;  or,  anyhow,  the  press 
told  it  that  it  was.  "The  atmosphere  is  electric,"  de- 
clared Mr.  Liffey,  in  an  article  in  the  Sentinel;  thou- 
sands read  it  in  railway  carriages  and  looked  grave; 
they  had  not  seen  Mr.  Liffe37's  smile. 

Things  were  in  this  condition,  and  the  broadsheets 
blazing  in  big  letters,  when  one  afternoon  a  hansom 
.whisked  along  Wych  Street  and  set  down  a  lady  in  a 
very  neat  gray  frock  at  the  entrance  of  Danes  Inn. 
Trix  trod  the  pavement  of  that  secluded  spot  and 
ascended  the  stairs  of  6A  with  an  amusement  and 
excitement  far  different  from  Peggy  Ryle's  matter-of- 
fact  familiarity.  She  had  known  lodging-houses; 
they  were  as  dirty  as  this,  but  there  the  likeness  ended. 
They  had  been  new,  flimsy,  confined ;  this  looked  old, 
was  very  solid  and  relatively  spacious ;  they  had  been 
noisy,  it  was  very  quiet;  the}7  had  swarmed  with  chil- 
dren, here  were  none;  the  whole  place  seemed  to  her 
quasi-monastic;  she  blushed  for  herself  as  she  passed 
through.  Her  knock  on  Airey  Newton's  door  was 
timid. 

Airey 's  amazement  at  the  sight  of  her  wras  unmis- 
takable. He  drew  back,  saying : 

"Mrs.  Trevalla!     Is  it  really  you?" 

The  picture  he  had  in  his  mind  was  so  different. 
Where  was  the  forlorn  girl  in  the  widow's  weeds? 
This  brilliant  creature  surely  was  not  the  same! 

But  Trix  laughed  and  chattered,  insisting  that 
she  was  herself. 

"I  couldn't  wear  mourning  all  my  life,  could  I?" 
she  asked.  "You  didn't  mean  me  to,  when  we  had 
our  talk  in  Paris?" 

47 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

" I'm  not  blaming,  only  wondering."  For  a  moment 
she  almost  robbed  him  of  speech;  he  busied  himself 
with  the  tea  (there  was  a  cake  to-day)  while  she  flitted 
about  the  room,  not  omitting  to  include  Airey  himself 
in  her  rapid  scrutiny.  She  marked  the  shortness 
of  his  hair,  the  trimness  of  his  beard,  and  approved 
Peggy's  work,  little  thinking  it  was  Peggy's. 

"It's  delightful  to  be  here,"  she  exclaimed  as  she  sat 
down  to  tea. 

"I  took  your  coming  as  a  bad  omen,"  said  Airey, 
smiling,  "but  1  hope  there's  nothing  very  wrong?" 

"I'm  an  impostor.  Everything  is  just  splendidly 
right,  and  I  came  to  tell  you." 

"It  was  very  kind."  He  had  not  quite  recovered 
from  his  surprise  yet. 

"I  thought  you  had  a  right  to  know.  I  owe  it  all 
to  your  advice,  you  see.  You  told  me  to  come  back 
to  life.  Well,  I've  come." 

She  was  alive  enough,  certainly;  she  breathed  ani- 
mation and  seemed  to  diffuse  vitality;  she  was  posi- 
tively eager  in  her  living. 

"You  told  me  to  have  my  revenge,  to  play  with 
life.  Don't  you  remember?  Fancy  your  forgetting, 
when  I '  ve  remembered  so  well  1  To  die  of  heat 
rather  than  of  cold — surely  you  remember,  Mr.  New- 
ton?" 

"Every  word,  now  you  say  it,"  he  nodded.  "And 
you're  acting  on  that?" 

"For  all  I'm  worth,"  laughed  Trix. 

He  sat  down  opposite  her,  looking  at  her  with  a 
grave  but  still  rather  bewildered  attention. 

"And  it  works  well?"  he  asked  after  a  pause,  and, 
as  it  seemed,  a  conscientious  examination  of  her. 

"Superb!"  She  could  not  resist  adding,  "Haven't 
you  heard  anything  about  me?" 

48 


FROM    THE    MIDST    OF    THE    WHIRL 

"In  here?"  asked  Airey,  waving  his  arm  round 
the  room  and  smiling. 

"No,  I  suppose  you  wouldn't/'  she  laughed;  "but 
I'm  rather  famous,  you  know.  That's  why  I  felt 
bound  to  come  and  tell  you — to  let  you  see  what  great 
things  you've  done.  Yes,  it's  quite  true,  you  gave 
me  the  impulse."  She  set  down  her  cup  and  leaned 
back  in  her  chair,  smiling  brightly  at  him.  "Are 
you  afraid  of  the  responsibility?" 

"Everything  seems  so  prosperous,"  said  Airey. 
"I  forgot,  but  I  have  heard  one  person  speak  of  you. 
Do  you  know  Peggy  Ryle?" 

"1  know  her  by  sight.     Is  she  a  friend  of  yours?" 

"Yes,  and  she  told  me  some  of  your  triumphs." 

"Oh,  not  half  so  well  as  I  shall  tell  you  irryself!" 
Trix  was  evidently  little  interested  in  Peggy  Ryle. 
To  Airey  himself,  Peggy's  doubts  and  criticism  seemed 
now  rather  absurd;  this  bright  vision  threw  them  into 
the  shade  of  neglect. 

Trix  launched  out.  It  was  the  first  chance  she 
had  enjoyed  of  telling  to  somebody  who  belonged  to 
the  old  life  the  wonderful  things  about  the  new.  In- 
deed, who  else  of  the  old  life  was  left?  Graves,  ma- 
terial or  metaphorical,  covered  all  that  had  belonged 
to  it.  Mrs.  Bonfill  was  always  kind,  but  with  her 
there  was  not  the  delicious  sense  of  the  contrast  that 
must  rise  before  the  eyes  of  the  listener.  Airey  gave 
her  that ;  he  had  heard  of  the  lodging-houses,  he  knew 
about  the  four  years  with  Vesey  Trevalla ;  it  was  evident 
he  had  not  forgotten  the  forlornness  and  the  widow's 
weeds  of  Paris.  He  then  could  appreciate  the  change, 
the  great  change,  that  still  amazed  and  dazzled  Trix 
herself.  It  was  not  in  ostentation,  but  in  the  pure 
joy  of  victory,  that  she  flung  great  names  at  him, 
would  have  him  know  that  the  highest  of  them  were 
4  49 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

familiar  to  her,  and  that  the  woman  who  now  sat 
talking  to  him,  friend  to  friend,  amid  the  dinginess  of 
Danes  Inn,  was  a  sought-after,  valued,  honored  guest 
in  all  these  houses.  Peggy  Ryle  went  to  some  of 
the  houses  also,  but  she  had  never  considered  that 
talk  about  them  would  interest  Airey  Newton.  She 
might  be  right  or  wrong.  Trix  Trevalla  was  certainly 
right  in  guessing  that  talk  about  herself  in  the  houses 
would. 

"You  seem  to  be  going  it,  Mrs.  Trevalla/'  he  said 
at  last,  unconsciously  reaching  out  for  his  pipe. 

"1  am,"  said  Trix.  "Yes,  do  smoke.  So  will  1." 
She  produced  her  cigarette-case.  "Well,  I've  arrears 
to  make  up,  haven't  1?"  She  glanced  round.  "And 
you  live  here?"  she  asked. 

"Always.  1  know  nothing  of  all  you've  been  talk- 
ing about." 

"You  wouldn't  care  about  it,  anyhow,  would  you?" 
Her  tones  were  gentle  and  consolatory.  She  accepted 
the  fact  that  it  was  all  impossible  to  him,  that  the  door 
was  shut,  and  comforted  him  in  his  exclusion. 

"1  don't  suppose  1  should,  and  at  all  events — " 
He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  If  her  impression  had 
needed  confirmation,  here  it  was.  "And  what's  to 
be  the  end  of  it  with  you?"  he  asked. 

"End?  Why  should  there  be  an  end?  It's  only  just 
begun,"  cried  Trix. 

"Well,  there  are  ends  that  are  beginnings  of  other 
things,"  he  suggested.  What  Peggy  had  told  him 
recurred  to  his  mind,  though  certainly  there  was  no 
sign  of  Mrs.  Trevalla  being  in  trouble  on  that  or  any 
other  score. 

Yet  his  words  brought  a  shadow  to  Trix's  face,  a 
touch  of  irritation  into  her  manner. 

"Oh,  some  day,  1  dare  say/'  she  said.  "Yes,  1 

50 


FROM    THE    MIDST    OF    THE    WHIRL 

suppose  so.  I'm  not  thinking  about  that  either,  just 
now.  I'm  just  thinking  about  myself.  That's  what 
you  meant  me  to  do?" 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  my  responsibility  is  growing, 
Mrs.  Trevalla." 

"Yes,  that's  it— it  is!"  Trix  was  delighted  with 
the  whimsicality  of  the  idea.  "  You're  responsible  for 
it  all,  though  you  sit  quietly  here  and  nobody  knows 
anything  about  you.  1  shall  come  and  report  myself 
from  time  to  time.  I'm  obedient  up  to  now?" 

"  Well,  I'm  not  quite  sure.     Did  1  tell  you  to—?" 

"Yes,  yes,  to  take  my  revenge,  you  know.  Oh, 
you  remember,  and  you  can't  shirk  it  now."  She 
began  to  laugh  at  the  half-humorous  gravity  of  Airey's 
face  as  she  insisted  on  his  responsibility.  This  talk 
with  him,  the  sort  of  relations  that  she  was  establish- 
ing with  him,  promised  to  give  a  new  zest  to  her  life, 
a  pleasant  diversion  for  her  thoughts.  He  would 
make  a  splendid  onlooker,  and  she  would  select  all 
the  pleasant  things  for  him  to  see.  Of  course  there 
was  nothing  really  unpleasant,  but  there  were  a  few 
things  that  it  would  not  interest  him  to  hear.  There 
were  things  that  even  Mrs.  Bonfill  did  not  hear,  al- 
though she  would  have  been  able  to  understand  them 
much  better  than  he. 

Trix  found  her  host  again  looking  at  her  with  an 
amused  and  admiring  scrutiny.  She  was  well  pre- 
pared for  it;  the  most  select  of  parties  had  elicited  no 
greater  care  in  the  choice  of  her  dress  than  this  visit 
to  Danes  Inn.  Was  not  the  contrast  to  be  made  as 
wonderful  and  striking  as  possible? 

"  Shall  I  do  you  credit?"  she  asked,  in  gay  mockery. 

"You're  really  rather  marvellous,"  laughed  Airey. 
"And I  suppose  you'll  come  out  all  right."  A  hint  of 
doubt  crept  into  his  voice.  Trix  glanced  at  him  quickly. 

51 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"  If  1  don't,  you'll  have  to  look  after  me,"  she  warned 
him. 

He  was  grave  now,  not  solemn,  but,  as  it  seemed, 
meditative. 

"  What  if  1  think  only  of  myself,  too?"  he  asked. 

Trix  laughed  at  the  idea.  "There'd  be  no  sort  of 
excuse  for  you,"  she  reminded  him. 

"1  suppose  not,"  he  admitted,  rather  ruefully. 

"But  I'm  going  to  come  out  most  splendidly  all 
right,  so  we  won't  worry  about  that."  As  she  spoke 
she  had  been  putting  on  her  gloves,  and  now  she  rose 
from  her  chair.  "1  must  go;  got  an  early  dinner 
and  a  theatre."  She  looked  round  the  room,  and 
then  back  to  Airey;  her  lips  parted  in  an  appealing, 
confidential  smile  that  drew  an  answer  from  him, 
and  made  him  feel  what  her  power  was.  "Do  you 
know,  1  don't  want — 1  positively  don't  want — to  go, 
Mr.  Newton." 

"The  attractions  are  so  numerous,  so  unrivalled?" 

"It's  so  quiet,  so  peaceful,  so  out  of  it  all." 

"That  a  recommendation  to  you?"  He  raised  his 
brows. 

"Well,  it's  all  a  bit  of  a  rush  and  a  fight,  and — 
and  so  on.  I  love  it  all,  but  just  now  and  then" — 
she  came  to  him  and  laid  her  hand  lightly  on  his  arm 
— "just  now  and  then  may  I  come  again?"  she  im- 
plored. "  1  shall  like  to  think  that  I've  got  it  to  come 
to." 

"It's  always  here,  Mrs.  Trevalla,  and,  except  for 
me,  generally  empty." 

"Generally?"  Her  mocking  tone  hid  a  real  curi- 
osity; but  Airey 's  manner  was  matter-of-fact. 

"  Oh,  Peggy  Ryle  comes,  and  one  or  two  of  her  friends, 
now  and  then.  But  1  could  send  them  away.  Any 
time's  the  same  to  them." 

52 


FROM   THE    MIDST    OF    THE    WHIRL 

"Miss  Ryle  comes?  She's  beautiful,  I  think;  don't 
you?" 

"Now,  am  I  a  judge?  Well,  yes,  I  think  Peggy's 
attractive." 

"Oh,  you're  all  hypocrites!  Well,  you  must  think 
me  attractive,  too,  or  1  won't  come." 

It  was  a  long  while  since  Airey  Newton  had  been 
flirted  with.  He  recognized  the  process,  however, 
and  did  not  object  to  it;  it  also  appeared  to  him  that 
Trix  did  it  very  well. 

"If  you  come,  1  shall  think  you  most  attractive." 

Trix  relapsed  into  sincerity  and  heartiness.  "I've 
enjoyed  coming  awfully,"  she  said.  Airey  found  the 
sincerity  no  less  attractive.  "  1  shall  think  about  you." 

"From  the  midst  of  the  whirl?" 

"Yes,  from  the  midst  of  the  whirl!     Good-bye." 

She  left  behind  her  a  twofold  and  puzzling  impres- 
sion. There  was  the  woman  01  the  world,  with  airs 
and  graces  a  trifle  elaborate,  perhaps,  in  their  pretti- 
ness,  the  woman  steeped  in  society,  engrossed  with 
its  triumphs,  fired  with  its  ambitions.  But  there 
had  been  visible  from  time  to  time,  or  had  seemed 
to  peep  out,  another  woman,  the  one  who  had  come 
to  see  her  friend,  had  felt  the  need  of  talking  it  all 
over  with  him,  of  sharing  it  and  getting  sympathy 
in  it,  and  who  had  in  the  end  dropped  her  graces  and 
declared  with  a  frank  heartiness  that  she  had  enjoyed 
coming  "awfulty."  Airey  Newton  pulled  his  beard 
and  smoked  a  pipe  over  these  two  women  as  he  sat 
alone.  With  some  regret  he  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  as  a  permanent  factor,  as  an  influence  in  guiding 
and  shaping  Trix  Trevalla's  life,  the  second  woman 
would  not  have  much  chance  against  the  first.  Every- 
thing was  adverse  to  the  second  woman  in  the  world 
in  which  Trix  lived. 

53 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

And  he  had  sent  her  to  that  world?  So  she  declared, 
partly  in  mockery,  perhaps,  enjoying  the  incongruity 
of  the  idea  with  his  dull  life,  his  dingy  room,  his  shabby 
coat.  Yet  he  traced  in  the  persistence  with  which 
she  had  recurred  to  the  notion  something  more  than 
mere  chaff.  The  idea  might  be  fanciful  or  whim- 
sical, but  there  it  was  in  her  mind,  dating  from  their 
talk  at  Paris.  Unquestionably  it  clung  to  her,  and 
in  some  vague  way  she  based  on  it  an  obligation  on 
his  part,  and  thought  it  raised  a  claim  on  hers,  a  claim 
that  he  should  not  judge  her  severely  or  condemn 
the  way  she  lived;  perhaps,  more  vaguely  still,  a  claim 
that  he  should  help  her  if  ever  she  needed  help. 


V 

THE  WORLD  RECALCITRANT 

BEAUFORT  CHANCE  was  no  genius  in  a  draw- 
ing-room— that  may  be  accepted  on  Lady  Blix- 
worth's  authority.  In  concluding  that  he  was  a  fool 
in  the  general  affairs  of  life  she  went  beyond  her 
premises  and  her  knowledge.  Mrs.  Bonfill,  out  of 
a  larger  experience,  had  considered  that  he  would  do 
more  than  usually  well ;  he  was  ingenious,  hard-work- 
ing, and  conciliatory,  of  affable  address  and  sufficient 
tact;  Mrs.  Bonfill  seemed  to  have  placed  him  with 
judgment,  and  Mr.  Dickinson  (who  led  the  House) 
was  content  with  his  performances.  Yet  perhaps 
after  all  he  was,  in  the  finest  sense  of  the  term,  a  fool. 
He  could  not  see  how  things  would  look  to  other  people, 
if  other  people  came  to  know  them ;  he  hardly  perceived 
when  he  was  sailing  very  near  the  wind ;  the  probability 
of  an  upset  did  not  occur  to  him.  He  saw  writh  his 
own  eyes  only;  their  view  was  short,  and  perhaps 
awry. 

Fricker  was  his  friend;  he  had  bestowed  favors  on 
Fricker,  or  at  least  on  Fricker's  belongings,  for  whose 
debts  Fricker  assumed  liability.  If  Fricker  were 
minded  to  repay  the  obligation,  was  there  any  partic- 
ular harm  in  that?  Beaufort  could  not  see  it.  If, 
again,  the  account  being  a  little  more  than  squared, 
he  in  his  turn  equalized  it,  leaving  Fricker's  kindness 
to  set  him  at  a  debit  again,  and  again  await  his  bal- 

55 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

ancing,  what  harm?  It  seemed  only  the  natural  way 
of  things  when  business  and  friendship  went  hand 
in  hand.  The  Prickers  wanted  one  thing,  he  wanted 
another.  If  each  could  help  the  other  to  the  desired 
object,  good  was  done  to  both,  hurt  to  nobody.  Many 
things  are  private  which  are  not  wrong;  delicacy  is 
different  from  shame,  reticence  from  concealment. 
These  relations  between  himself  and  Fricker  were 
not  fit  subjects  for  gossip,  but  Beaufort  saw  no  sin  in 
them.  Fricker,  it  need  not  be  added,  was  clearly,  and 
even  scornfully,  of  the  same  opinion. 

But  Fricker 's  business  affairs  were  influenced — 
indeed,  most  materially  affected — by  what  the  Tsar 
meant  to  do,  and  by  one  or  two  kindred  problems  then 
greatly  exercising  the  world  of  politics,  society,  and 
finance.  Beaufort  Chance  was  not  only  in  the  House, 
he  was  in  the  government.  Humbly  in,  it  is  true,  but 
actually.  Still,  what  then?  He  was  not  in  the  cabi- 
net. Did  he  know  secrets?  He  knew  none;  of  course 
he  would  never  have  used  secrets  or  divulged  them. 
Things  told  to  him,  or  picked  up  by  him,  were  ex  hy- 
pothesi,  not  secrets,  or  he  would  never  have  come  to 
know  them.  Fricker  had  represented  all  this  to  him, 
and,  after  some  consideration  and  hesitation,  Flicker's 
argument  had  seemed  very  sound. 

Must  a  man  be  tempted  to  argue  thus  or  to  accept 
such  arguments?  Beaufort  scorned  the  idea,  but, 
lest  he  should  have  been  in  error  on  this  point,  it  may 
be  said  that  there  was  much  to  tempt  him.  He  was 
an  extravagant  man;  he  sat  for  an  expensive  con- 
stituency; he  knew  (his  place  taught  him  still  better) 
the  value  of  riches — of  real  wealth,  not  of  a  beggarly 
competence.  He  wanted  wealth  and  he  wanted  Trix 
Trevalla.  He  seemed  to  see  how  he  could  work  tow- 
ards the  satisfaction  of  both  desires  at  the  same  time 

56 


THE    WORLD    RECALCITRANT 

and  along  the  same  lines.  Mervyn  was  his  rival  with 
Trix  —  every  day  made  that  plain.  He  had  believed 
himself  on  the  way  to  win  till  Mervyn  was  brought 
on  the  scene — by  Mrs.  Bonfill,  whom  he  now  began 
to  hate.  Mervyn  had  rank  and  many  other  advan- 
tages. To  fight  Mervyn  every  reinforcement  was 
needed.  As  wealth  tempted  himself,  so  he  knew  it 
would  and  must  tempt  Trix;  he  was  better  informed 
as  to  her  affairs  than  Mrs.  Bonfill,  and  shared  Lady 
Blixworth's  opinion  about  them. 

Having  this  opinion,  and  a  lively  wish  to  ingratiate 
himself  with  Trix,  he  allowed  her  to  share  in  some  of 
the  benefits  which  his  own  information  and  Pricker's 
manipulation  of  the  markets  brought  to  their  partner- 
ship. Trix,  conscious  of  money  slipping  away,  very 
ready  to  put  it  back,  reckless  and  ignorant,  was  only 
too  happy  in  the  opportunity.  She  seemed  also  very 
grateful,  and  Beaufort  was  encouraged  to  persevere. 
For  a  little  while  his  kindness  to  Trix  escaped  Pricker's 
notice,  but  not  for  long.  As  soon  as  Pricker  discovered 
it  his  attitude  was  perfectly  clear  and,  to  himself,  no 
more  than  reasonable. 

"You've  every  motive  for  standing  well  with  Mrs. 
Trevalla,  1  know,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  licking 
his  big  cigar  and  placing  his  well-groomed  hat  on 
Beaufort's  table.  "But  what  motive  have  1?  Every- 
body we  let  in  means  one  more  to  share  the — the  profit 
— perhaps,  one  might  add,  to  increase  the  risk.  Now, 
why  should  I  let  Mrs.  Trevalla  in?  Any  more  than, 
for  instance,  I  should  let  —  shall  we  say  Mrs.  Bonfill 
— in?"  Pricker  did  not  like  Mrs.  Bonfill  since  she 
had  quailed  before  Viola  Blixworth. 

"Oh,  if  you  take  it  like  that!"  muttered  Beaufort, 
crossly. 

"  I  don't  take  it  any  way.  I  put  the  case.  It  would 

57 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

be  different  if  Mrs.  Trevalla  were  a  friend  of  mine 
or  of  my  family." 

That  was  pretty  plain  for  Fricker.  As  a  rule  Mrs. 
Fricker  put  the  things  plainly  to  him,  and  he  trans- 
mitted them  considerably  disguised  and  carefully 
wrapped  in  his  dry  humor.  On  this  occasion  he  al- 
lowed his  hint  to  be  fairly  obvious;  he  knew  Beaufort 
intimately  by  now. 

Beaufort  looked  at  him,  feeling  rather  uncomfort- 
able. 

"Friends  do  one  another  good  turns;  I  don't  go 
about  doing  them  to  anybody  1  meet,  just  for  fun/' 
continued  Fricker. 

Beaufort  nodded  a  slow  assent. 

"Of  course  we  don't  bargain  with  a  lady/'  smiled 
Fricker,  thoughtfully  flicking  off  his  ash.  "But,  on 
the  other  hand,  ladies  are  very  quick  to  understand. 
Eh,  Beaufort?  I  dare  say  you  could  convey — ?"  He 
stuck  the  cigar  back  into  his  mouth. 

This  was  the  conversation  that  led  to  the  little  dinner- 
party hereinbefore  recorded;  Fricker  had  gone  to  it 
not  doubting  that  Trix  Trevalla  understood;  Mrs. 
Fricker  did  not  doubt  it  either  when  Trix  had  been  so 
civil  in  the  drawing-room.  Trix  herself  had  thought 
she  ought  to  be  civil,  as  has  been  seen;  it  may,  how- 
ever, be  doubted  whether  Beaufort  Chance  had  made 
her  understand  quite  how  much  a  matter  of  business 
the  whole  thing  was.  She  did  not  realize  that  she,  now 
or  about  to  be  a  social  power,  was  to  do  what  Lady 
Blixworth  would  not  and  Mrs.  Bonfill  dared  not — 
was  to  push  the  Frickers,  to  make  her  cause  theirs,  to 
open  doors  for  them,  and  in  return  was  to  be  told  when 
to  put  money  in  this  stock  or  that,  and  when  to  take  it 
out  again.  She  was  told  when  to  do  these  things,  and 
did  them.  The  money  rolled  in,  and  she  was  wonder- 

58 


THE    WORLD    RECALCITRANT 

fully  pleased.  If  it  would  go  on  rolling  in  like  this,  its 
rolling  out  again  (as  it  did)  was  of  no  consequence; 
her  one  pressing  difficulty  seemed  in  a  fair  way  to  be 
removed.  Something  she  did  for  the  Prickers:  she 
got  them  some  minor  invitations,  and  asked  them  to 
meet  some  minor  folk,  and  thought  herself  very  kind. 
Now  and  then  they  seemed  to  hint  at  more,  just  as 
now  and  then  Beaufort  Chance's  attentions  became 
inconveniently  urgent.  On  such  occasions  Trix  laugh- 
ed and  joked  and  evaded,  and  for  the  moment  wriggled 
out  of  any  pledge.  As  regards  the  seemliness  of  the 
position,  her  state  of  mind  was  very  much  Beaufort's 
own ;  she  saw  no  harm  in  it,  but  she  did  not  talk  about 
it;  some  people  were  stupid,  others  malicious.  It  was, 
after  all,  a  private  concern.  So  she  said  nothing  to 
anybody — not  even  to  Mrs.  Bonfill.  There  was  little 
sign  of  Airey  Newton's  "  second  woman  "  in  her  treat- 
ment of  this  matter;  the  first  held  undivided  sway. 

If  what  the  Tsar  meant  to  do  and  the  kindred  prob- 
lems occupied  Fricker  in  one  way,  they  made  no  less 
claim  on  Mervyn's  time  in  another.  He  was  very 
busy  in  his  office  and  in  the  House;  he  had  to  help 
Lord  Glentorly  to  persuade  the  nation  to  rely  on  him. 
Still  he  made  some  opportunities  for  meeting  Trix 
Trevalla;  she  was  always  very  ready  to  meet  him 
when  Beaufort  Chance  and  Fricker  were  not  to  the 
fore.  He  was  a  man  of  methodical  mind,  which  he 
made  up  slowly.  He  took  things  in  their  order,  and 
gave  them  their  proper  proportion  of  time.  He  was 
making  his  career.  It  could  hardly  be  doubted  that 
he  was  also  paying  attentions,  and  it  was  probable 
that  he  meant  to  pay  his  addresses,  to  Trix  Trevalla. 
But  his  progress  was  leisurely ;  the  disadvantages  at- 
taching to  her  perhaps  made  him  slower,  even  though 
in  the  end  he  would  disregard  them.  In  Trix's  eyes 

59 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

he  was  one  or  two  things  worse  than  leisurely.  He 
was  very  confident  and  rather  condescending.  On 
this  point  she  did  speak  to  Mrs.  Bonfill,  expressing 
some  impatience.  Mrs.  Bonfill  was  sympathetic  as 
always,  but  also,  as  always,  wise. 

"Well,  and  if  he  is,  my  dear?"  Her  smile  appealed 
to  Trix  to  admit  that  everything  which  she  had  been 
objecting  to  and  rebelling  against  was  no  more  than 
what  any  woman  of  the  world  would  expect  and  allow 
for. 

Trix's  expression  was  still  mutinous.  Mrs.  Bonfill 
proceeded  with  judicial  weightiness. 

"Now  look  at  Audrey  Pollington — you  know  that 
big  niece  of  Viola's?  Do  you  suppose  that,  if  Mortimer 
paid  her  attentions,  she'd  complain  of  him  for  being 
condescending?  She'd  just  thank  her  stars,  and  take 
what  she  could  get."  (These  very  frank  expressions 
are  recorded  with  an  apology.) 

"I'm  not  Audrey  Pollington,"  muttered  Trix,  using 
a  weak  though  common  argument. 

There  are  moments  when  youth  is  the  better  for  a 
judicious  dose  of  truth. 

"My  dear,"  remarked  Mrs.  Bonfill,  "most  people 
would  say  that  what  Audrey  Pollington  didn't  mind, 
you  needn't."  Miss  Pollington  was  granddaughter  to 
a  duke  (female  line),  and  had  a  pretty  little  fortune 
of  her  own.  Mrs.  Bonfill  could  not  be  held  wrong 
for  seeking  to  temper  her  young  friend's  arrogance. 

"It's  not  my  idea  of  making  love,  that's  all,"  said 
Trix,  obstinately. 

"  We  live  and  learn. "  Mrs.  Bonfill  implied  that  Trix 
had  much  to  learn.  "  Don't  lose  your  head,  child,"  she 
added,  warningly.  "  You've  made  plenty  of  people  en- 
vious. Don't  give  them  any  chance."  She  paused  be- 
fore she  asked,  "  Do  you  see  much  of  Beaufort  now?" 

60 


THE    WORLD    RECALCITRANT 

"  A  certain  amount. "  Trix  did  not  wish  to  be  drawn 
on  this  point. 

"Well,  Trix?" 

"We  keep  friends/'  smiled  Trix. 

"Yes,  that's  right.  I  wouldn't  see  too  much  of 
him,  though." 

"Till  my  lord  has  made  up  his  mind?" 

"Silly!"  That  one  word  seemed  to  Mrs.  Bonfill 
sufficient  answer.  She  had,  however,  more  confidence 
in  Trix  than  the  one  word  implied.  Young  women 
must  be  allowed  their  moods,  but  most  of  them  acted 
sensibly  in  the  end ;  that  was  Mrs.  Bonfill 's  experience. 

Trix  came  and  kissed  her  affectionately ;  she  was 
fond  of  Mrs.  Bonfill  and  really  grateful  to  her;  it  is 
possible,  besides,  that  she  had  twinges  of  conscience; 
her  conversations  with  Mrs.  Bonfill  were  marked  by  a 
good  deal  of  reserve.  It  was  all  very  well  to  say  that 
the  matters  reserved  did  not  concern  Mrs.  Bonfill,  but 
even  Trix  in  her  most  independent  mood  could  not 
feel  quite  convinced  of  this.  She  knew — though  she 
tried  not  to  think  of  it — that  she  was  playing  a  double 
game ;  in  one  side  of  it  Mrs.  Bonfill  was  with  her,  and 
she  accepted  that  lady's  help;  the  other  side  was 
sedulously  hidden.  It  was  not  playing  fair.  Trix 
might  set  her  teeth  sometimes  and  declare  she  would 
do  it,  unfair  though  it  was;  or  more  often  she  would 
banish  thought  altogether  by  a  plunge  into  amuse- 
ment; but  the  thought  and  the  consciousness  were 
there.  Well,  she  was  not  treating  anybody  half  as 
badly  as  most  people  had  treated  her.  She  hardened 
her  heart  and  went  forward  on  her  dangerous  path, 
confident  that  she  could  keep  clear  of  pitfalls.  Only 
— yes,  it  was  all  rather  a  fight ;  once  or  twice  she  thought 
of  Danes  Inn  with  a  half-serious  yearning  for  its  quiet 
and  repose. 

61 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Some  of  what  Mrs.  Bonfill  did  not  see  Lady  Blix- 
worth  did — distantly,  of  course,  and  mainly  by  putting 
an  observed  two  together  with  some  other  observed 
but  superficially  unrelated  two — a  task  eminently  con- 
genial to  her  mind.  Natural  inclination  was  quick- 
ened by  family  duty.  "I  wish/'  Lady  Blixworth  said, 
"that  Sarah  would  have  undertaken  dear  Audrey; 
but  since  she  won't,  I  must  do  the  best  I  can  for  her 
myself."  It  was  largely  with  a  view  to  doing  the  best 
she  could  for  Audrey  that  Lady  Blixworth  kept  her 
eye  on  Trix  Trevalla — a  thing  of  which  Trix  was 
quite  unconscious.  Lady  Blixworth's  motives  com- 
mand respect,  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  Miss  Pol- 
lington  did  not  render  her  relative's  dutiful  assistance 
superfluous.  She  was  a  tall,  handsome  girl,  rather  in- 
ert, not  very  ready  in  conversation.  Lady  Blixworth, 
who  was  never  absurd  even  in  praise,  pitched  on  the 
epithet  "statuesque"  as  peculiarly  suitable.  Society 
acquiesced.  "How  statuesque  Miss  Pollington  is!" 
became  the  thing  to  say  to  one's  neighbor  or  partner. 
Lady  Blixworth  herself  said  it  with  a  smile  some- 
times; most  people,  content  as  ever  to  accept  what  is 
given  to  them,  were  grave  enough. 

Audrey  herself  was  extremely  pleased  with  the 
epithet,  so  delighted,  indeed,  that  her  aunt  thought 
it  necessary  to  administer  a  caution. 

"When  people  praise  you  or  your  appearance  for  a 
certain  quality,  Audrey  dear,"  she  observed,  sweetly, 
"it  generally  means  that  you've  got  that  quality  in 
a  marked  degree." 

"Yes,  of  course,  Aunt  Viola,"  said  Audrey,  rather 
surprised,  but  quite  understanding. 

"And  so,"  pursued  Aunt  Viola  in  yet  more  gentle 
tones,  "it  isn't  necessary  for  you  to  cultivate  it  con- 
sciously." She  stroked  Audrey's  hand  with  much  af- 

62 


THE    WORLD    RECALCITRANT 

fection.  "  Because  they  tell  you  you're  statuesque,  for 
instance,  don't  try  to  go  about  looking  like  the  Venus 
of  Milo  in  a  pair  of  stays." 

"I'm  sure  I  don't,  auntie,"  cried  poor  Audrey,  blush- 
ing piteously.  She  was  conscious  of  having  posed  a 
little  bit  as  Mr.  Guise,  the  eminent  sculptor,  passed  by. 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  does  no  harm  to  remember  that 
one  has  a  tendency  in  a  certain  direction;  then  one 
is  careful  to  keep  a  watch  on  one's  self  and  not  overdo 
it.  1  don't  want  you  to  skip  about,  my  dear,  but  you 
know  what  I  mean." 

Audrey  nodded  rather  ruefully.  What  is  the  good 
of  being  statuesque  if  you  may  not  live  up  to  it? 

"You  aren't  hurt  with  me,  darling?"  cooed  Aunt 
Viola. 

Audrey  declared  she  was  not  hurt,  but  she  felt  rather 
bewildered. 

With  the  coming  of  June,  affairs  of  the  heart  and 
affairs  of  the  purse  became  lamentably  and  unpoeti- 
cally  confounded  in  Trix  Trevalla's  life  and  thoughts. 
Mrs.  Bonfill  was  hinting  prodigiously  about  Audrey 
Pollington;  Lady  Blixworth  was  working  creditably 
hard,  and  danger  undoubtedly  threatened  from  that 
quarter.  Trix  must  exert  herself  if  Mervyn  were  not 
to  slip  through  the  meshes.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
problems  were  rather  acute.  Lord  Farringham  had 
been  decidedly  pessimistic  in  a  speech  in  the  House  of 
Lords,  Flicker  was  hinting  at  a  great  coup,  Beaufort 
Chance  was  reminding  her  in  a  disagreeably  pressing 
fashion  of  how  much  he  had  done  for  her  and  of  how 
much  he  still  could  do.  Trix  had  tried  one  or  two  lit- 
tle gambles  on  her  own  account  and  met  with  serious 
disaster;  current  expenses  rose  rather  than  fell.  In 
the  midst  of  all  her  gayety  Trix  grew  a  little  careworn 
and  irritable;  a  line  or  two  showed  on  her  face;  critics 

63 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

said  that  Mrs.  Trevalla  was  doing  too  much,  and  must 
be  more  careful  of  her  looks.  Mrs.  Bonfill  began  to  be 
vaguely  uncomfortable  about  her  favorite.  But  still 
Trix  held  on  her  way,  her  courage  commanding  more 
admiration  than  any  other  quality  she  manifested  at 
this  time.  Indeed,  she  had  moments  of  clear  sight 
about  herself,  but  her  shibboleth  of  "revenge"  still 
sufficed  to  stiffen,  if  not  to  comfort,  her. 

Some  said  that  Lord  Farringham's  pessimistic 
speech  was  meant  only  for  home  consumption,  the 
objects  being  to  induce  the  country  to  spend  money 
freely  and  also  to  feel  that  it  was  no  moment  for  seek- 
ing to  change  the  crown's  responsible  advisers.  Others 
said  that  it  was  intended  solely  for  abroad,  either  as  a 
warning  or,  more  probably,  as  an  excuse  to  enable  a 
foreign  nation  to  retire  with  good  grace  from  an  un- 
tenable position.  A  minority  considered  that  the  prime- 
minister  had  perhaps  said  what  he  thought.  On  the 
whole  there  was  considerable  uneasiness. 

"What  does  it  all  mean,  Mr.  Fricker?"  asked  Trix, 
when  that  gentleman  called  on  her,  cool,  alert,  and 
apparently  in  very  good  spirits. 

"It  means  that  fools  are  making  things  smooth  for 
wise  men,  as  usual,"  he  answered,  and  looked  at  her 
with  a  keen  glance. 

"If  you  will  only  make  them  plain  to  one  fool!" 
she  suggested,  with  a  laugh. 

"1  presume  you  aren't  interested  in  international 
politics  as  such?" 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  Trix,  heartily. 

"But  if  there's  any  little  venture  going — "  He 
smiled  as  he  tempted  her,  knowing  that  she  would 
yield. 

"You've  been  very  kind  to  me,"  murmured  Trix. 

"It's   a  big   thing   this   time — and   a   good   thing. 

64 


THE    WORLD    RECALCITRANT 

You've  heard  Beaufort  mention  the  Dramoffsky  Con- 
cessions, 1  dare  say?" 

Trix  nodded. 

"  He'd  only  mention  them  casually,  of  course," 
Fricker  continued,  with  a  passing  smile.  "Well,  if 
there's  trouble,  or  serious  apprehension  of  it,  the  Dra- 
moffsky Concessions  would  be  blown  sky-high — because 
it's  all  English  capital  and  labor,  and  for  a  long  time, 
anyhow,  the  whole  thing  would  be  brought  to  a  stand- 
still, and  the  machinery  all  go  to  the  deuce,  and  so  on." 

Again  Trix  nodded  wisely. 

"  Whereas,  if  everything's  all  right,  the  Concessions 
are  pretty  well  all  right,  too.  Have  you  noticed  that 
they've  been  falling  a  good  deal  lately?  No,  1  suppose 
not.  Most  papers  don't  quote  them." 

"1  haven't  looked  for  them.  I've  had  my  eye  on 
the  Glowing  Star."  Trix  was  anxious  to  give  an 
impression  of  being  business-like  in  one  matter,  any- 
how. 

"  Oh,  that's  good  for  a  few  hundreds,  but  don't  you 
worry  about  it.  I'll  look  after  that  for  you.  As  I  say, 
if  there's  serious  apprehension,  Dramoffskys  go  down. 
Well,  there  will  be  —  more  serious  than  there  is  now. 
And  after  that—" 

"War?"  asked  Trix,  in  some  excitement. 

"  We  imagine  not.  I'd  say  we  know,  only  one  never 
really  knows  anything.  No,  there  will  be  a  revival  of 
confidence.  And  then  Dramoffskys  —  well,  you  see 
what  follows.  Now  it's  a  little  risky — not  very — and 
it's  a  big  thing  if  it  comes  off,  and  what  I'm  telling 
you  is  worth  a  considerable  sum  as  a  marketable  com- 
modity. Are  you  inclined  to  come  in?" 

To  Trix  there  could  be  but  one  answer.     Coming  in 
with  Mr.  Fricker  had  always  meant  coming  out  better 
for  the  process.     She  thanked  him  enthusiastically. 
s  65 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"All  right.  Lodge  five  thousand  at  your  bankers' 
as  soon  as  you  can,  and  let  me  have  it." 

"Five  thousand!"  Trix  gasped  a  little.  She  had 
not  done  the  thing  on  such  a  scale  as  this  before. 

"It's  always  seemed  to  me  waste  of  time  to  fish 
for  herrings  with  a  rod  and  line,"  observed  Flicker; 
"but  just  as  you  like,  of  course." 

"Does  Beaufort  think  well  of  it?" 

"Do  you  generally  find  us  differing?"  Fricker 
smiled  ironically. 

"  I'll  go  in,"  said  Trix.  "  I  shall  make  a  lot,  sha'n't 
I?" 

"I  think  so.  Hold  your  tongue,  and  stay  in  till  I 
tell  you  to  come  out.  You  can  rely  on  me." 

Nothing  more  passed  between  them  then.  Trix 
was  left  to  consider  the  plunge  that  she  had  made. 
Could  it  possibly  go  wrong?  If  it  did — she  reckoned 
up  her  position.  If  it  went  wrong — if  the  five  thou- 
sand or  the  bulk  of  it  were  lost,  what  was  left  to  her? 
After  payment  of  all  liabilities,  she  would  have  about 
ten  thousand  pounds.  That  she  had  determined  to 
keep  intact.  On  the  interest  of  that  —  at  least  the 
distinction  was  beginning  to  thrust  itself  on  her  mind 
with  a  new  and  odious  sharpness — she  would  have  to 
live.  To  live — not  to  have  that  flat,  or  those  gowns, 
or  that  brougham,  or  this  position;  not  to  have  any- 
thing that  she  wanted  and  loved,  but  just  to  live.  Pen- 
sions again !  It  would  come  to  going  back  to  pensions. 

No — would  it?  There  was  another  resource.  Trix, 
rather  anxious,  a  little  fretful  and  uneasy,  was  san- 
guine and  resolute  still.  She  wrote  to  Beaufort  Chance, 
telling  him  what  she  had  done,  thanking  him,  bid- 
ding him  thank  Fricker,  expressing  the  amplest  grati- 
tude to  both  gentlemen.  Then  she  sat  down  and  in- 
vited Mervyn  to  come  and  see  her;  he  had  not  been 

66 


THE    WORLD    RECALCITRANT 

for  some  days,  and,  busy  as  he  was,  Trix  thought  it 
was  time  to  see  him,  and  to  blot  out,  for  a  season  at 
least,  all  idea  of  Audrey  Pollington.  She  reckoned 
that  an  interview  with  her,  properly  managed,  would 
put  Audrey  and  her  ally  out  of  action  for  some  little 
while  to  come. 

Mervyn  obeyed  her  summons,  but  not  in  a  very 
cheerful  mood.  Trix's  efforts  to  pump  him  about  the 
problems  and  the  complications  were  signally  un- 
successful. He  snubbed  her,  giving  her  to  under- 
stand that  he  was  amazed  at  being  asked  such  ques- 
tions. What,  then,  was  Beaufort  Chance  doing? 
she  asked  in  her  heart.  She  passed  rapidly  from 
the  dangerous  ground,  declaring  with  a  pout  that 
she  thought  he  might  have  told  her  some  gossip,  to 
equip  her  for  her  next  dinner-party.  He  responded 
to  her  lighter  mood  with  hardly  more  cordiality. 
Evidently  there  was  something  wrong  with  him,  some- 
thing which  prevented  her  spell  from  working  on 
him  as  it  was  wont.  Trix  was  dismayed.  Was  her 
power  gone?  It  could  not  be  that  statuesque  Miss 
Pollington  had  triumphed,  or  was  even  imminently 
dangerous? 

At  last  Mervyn  broke  out  with  what  he  had  to  say. 
He  looked,  she  thought,  like  a  husband  (not  like  Vesey 
Trevalla,  but  like  the  abstract  conception),  and  a  rath- 
er imperious  one,  as  he  took  his  stand  on  her  hearth- 
rug and  frowned  down  at  her. 

"You  might  know  —  no,  you  do  know  —  the  best 
people  in  London,"  he  said,  "and  yet  I  hear  of  your 
going  about  with  the  Prickers!  I  should  think  Prick- 
er's a  rogue,  and  I  know  he's  a  cad.  And  the  women!" 
Aristocratic  scorn  imbittered  his  tongue. 

"Who  have  you  heard  it  from?" 

"Lots  of  people.  Among  others,  Viola  Blixworth." 

67 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"Oh,  Lady  Blixworth!  Of  course  you'd  hear  it 
from  her!" 

"It  doesn't  matter  who  tells  me,  if  it's  true." 

That  was  an  annoying  line  to  take.  It  was  easy 
to  show  Lady  Blixworth's  motive,  but  it  was  impossible 
to  deny  the  accuracy  of  what  she  said.  A  hundred  safe 
witnesses  would  have  confounded  Trix  had  she  denied. 

"What  in  the  world  do  you  do  it  for?"  he  asked, 
angrily  and  impatiently.  "What  can  Fricker  do  for 
you?  Don't  you  see  how  you  lower  yourself?  They'll 
be  saying  he's  bought  you  next!" 

Trix  did  not  start,  but  a  spot  of  color  came  on  her 
cheeks ;  her  eyes  were  hard  and  wary  as  they  watched 
Mervyn  covertly.  He  came  towards  her,  and,  with  a 
sudden  softening  of  manner,  laid  his  hand  on  hers. 

"Drop  them,"  he  urged.  "Don't  have  anything 
more  to  do  with  such  a  lot." 

Trix  looked  up  at  him;  there  were  doubt  and  dis- 
tress in  her  eyes.  He  was  affectionate  now,  but  also 
very  firm. 

"For  my  sake,  drop  them,"  he  said.  "You  know 
people  can't  come  where  they  may  meet  the  Frickers." 

Trix  was  never  slow  of  understanding;  she  saw 
very  well  what  Mervyn  meant.  His  words  might 
be  smooth,  his  manner  might  be  kind,  and,  if  she  wished 
it  at  any  moment,  ready  to  grow  more  than  kind. 
With  all  this  he  was  asking — nay,  he  was  demand- 
ing— that  she  should  drop  the  Frickers.  How  difficult 
the  path  had  suddenly  grown;  how  hard  it  was  to 
work  her  complicated  plan! 

"A  good  many  people  know  them.  There's  Mr. 
Chance — "  she  began,  timidly. 

"Beaufort  Chance!  Yes,  better  if  he  didn't!"  His 
lips,  grimly  closing  again,  were  a  strong  condemna- 
tion of  his  colleague. 

68 


THE    WORLD    RECALCITRANT 

"They're  kind  people,  really." 

"They're  entirely  beneath  you — and  beneath  your 
friends." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  position.  Mervyn  was 
delivering  an  ultimatum.  It  was  little  use  to  say 
that  he  had  no  right  because  he  had  made  her  no 
offer.  He  had  the  power,  which,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
is  generally  more  the  question.  And  at  what  a  mo- 
ment the  ultimatum  came!  Must  Trix  relinquish 
that  golden  dream  of  the  Dramoffsky  Concessions, 
and  give  up  those  hundreds — welcome  if  few — from 
the  Glowing  Star?  Or  was  she  to  defy  Mervyn  and 
cast  in  her  lot  with  the  Prickers — and  with  Beaufort 
Chance? 

"Promise  me,"  he  said,  softly,  with  as  near  an  ap- 
proach to  a  lover's  entreaty  as  his  grave  and  con- 
descending manner  allowed.  "  I  never  thought  you'd 
make  any  difficulty.  Do  you  really  hesitate  between 
doing  what  pleases  me  and  what  pleases  Chance  or 
the  Prickers?" 

Trix  would  have  dearly  liked  to  cry,  "Yes,  yes, 
yes!"  Such  a  reply  would,  she  considered,  have  been 
wholesome  for  Mortimer  Mervyn,  and  it  would  have 
been  most  gratifying  to  herself.  She  dared  not  give 
it;  it  would  mean  far  too  much. 

"I  can't  be  actually  rude,"  she  pleaded.  "I  must 
do  it  gradually.  But,  since  you  ask  me,  I  will  break 
with  them  as  much  and  as  soon  as  I  can." 

"That's  all  I  ask  of  you,"  said  Mervyn.  He  bent 
and  kissed  her  hand  with  a  reassuring  air  of  homage 
and  devotion.  But  evidently  homage  and  devotion 
must  be  paid  for.  They  bore  a  resemblance  to  financial 
assistance  in  that  respect.  Trix  was  becoming  dis- 
agreeably conscious  that  people  expected  to  be  paid, 
in  one  way  or  another,  for  most  things  that  they  gave. 

69 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Chance  and  Flicker  wanted  payment.  Mervyn  claim- 
ed it,  too.  And  to  pay  both  as  they  asked  seemed  now 
impossible. 

Somehow  life  appeared  to  have  an  objection  to  be- 
ing played  with,  the  world  to  be  rather  unmalleable 
as  material,  the  revenge  not  to  be  the  simple  and  tri- 
umphant progress  that  it  had  looked. 

Trix  Trevalla,  under  pressure  of  circumstances,  got 
thus  far  on  the  way  towards  a  judgment  of  herself 
and  a  knowledge  of  the  world;  the  two  things  are 
closely  interdependent. 


VI 

CHILDREN  OF  SHADOW 

POLITICIAN!  I'd  as  soon  be  a  policeman/' 
f\  remarked  Miles  Childwick,  with  delicate  scorn. 
"I  don't  dispute  the  necessity  of  either — I  never  dis- 
pute the  necessity  of  things — but  it  would  not  occur 
to  me  to  become  either." 

"You're  not  tall  enough  for  a  policeman,  anyhow," 
said  Elfreda  Flood. 

"Not  if  it  became  necessary  to  take  you  in  charge, 
I  admit"  (Elfreda  used  to  be  called  "queenly"  and 
had  played  Hippolyta),  "but  your  remark  is  imper- 
tinent in  every  sense  of  the  term.  Politicians  and 
policemen  are  essentially  the  same." 

Everybody  looked  at  the  clock.  They  were  wait- 
ing for  supper  at  the  Magnifique ;  it  was  Tommy  Trent's 
party,  and  the  early  comers  sat  in  a  group  in  the  luxu- 
rious outer  room. 

"From  what  I  know  of  policemen  in  the  witness- 
box,  I  incline  to  agree,"  said  Manson  Smith. 

"The  salaries,  however,  are  different,"  yawned 
Tommy,  without  removing  his  eyes  from  the  clock. 

"I'm  most  infernally  hungry,"  announced  Arty 
Kane,  a  robust-looking  youth,  somewhat  famous  as  a 
tragic  poet.  "Myra  Lacrimans"  was  perhaps  his  best- 
known  work. 

Mrs.  John  Maturin  smiled ;  she  was  not  great  at  rep- 
artee outside  her  writings.  "  It  is  late,"  she  observed. 

71 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"But  while  policemen/'  pursued  Miles  Childwick, 
sublimely  careless  of  interruption — "while  policemen 
make  things  endurable  by  a  decent  neglect  of  their 
duties  (or  how  do  we  get  home  at  night?),  politicians 
are  constantly  raising  the  income  tax.  I  speak  with 
no  personal  bitterness,  since  to  me  it  happens  to  be  a 
small  matter,  but  1  observe  a  laceration  of  the  feelings 
of  my  wealthy  friends." 

"He'd  go  on  all  night,  whether  we  listened  or  not," 
said  Horace  Harnack,  half  in  despair,  half  in  admira- 
tion. "I  suppose  it  wouldn't  do  to  have  a  song, 
Tommy?" 

His  suggestion  met  with  no  attention,  for  at  the 
moment  Tommy  sprang  to  his  feet,  exclaiming, 
"Here's  Peggy  at  last!" 

The  big  glass  doors  were  swung  open  and  Peggy 
came  in.  The  five  men  advanced  to  meet  her.  Mrs. 
John  Maturin  smiled  in  a  rather  pitying  way  at  El- 
freda,  but  Elfreda  took  this  rush  quite  as  a  matter  of 
course  and  looked  at  the  clock  again. 

"Is  Airey  here?"  asked  Peggy. 

"Not  yet,"  replied  Tommy.  "I  hope  he's  coming, 
though." 

"He  said  something  about  being  afraid  he  might 
be  kept,"  said  Peggy;  then  she  drew  Tommy  aside  and 
whispered,  "Had  to  get  his  coat  mended,  you  know." 

Tommy  nodded  cautiously. 

"And  she  hasn't  come  either?"  Peggy  went  on. 

"No;  and  whoever  she  is,  I  hate  her,"  remarked 
Arty  Kane.  "But  who  is  she?  We're  all  here." 
He  waved  his  arms  round  the  assembly. 

"Going  to  introduce  you  to  society  to-night,  Arty," 
his  host  promised.  "Mrs.  Trevalla's  coming." 

"Duchesses  1  know,  and  countesses  I  know,"  said 
Childwick;  "but  who— " 

72 


CHILDREN    OF   SHADOW 

"Oh,  nobody  expected  you  to  know/'  interrupted 
Peggy.  She  came  up  to  Elfreda  and  made  a  rapid 
scrutiny.  "New  frock?" 

Elfreda  nodded  with  an  assumption  of  indifference. 

"How  lucky!"  said  Peggy,  who  was  evidently 
rather  excited.  "You're  always  smart,"  she  assured 
Mrs.  John  Maturin. 

Mrs.  John  smiled. 

Timidly  and  with  unfamiliar  step  Airey  Newton 
entered  the  gorgeous  apartment.  Relief  was  dom- 
inant on  his  face  when  he  saw  the  group  of  friends, 
and  he  made  a  hasty  dart  towards  them,  giving 
on  the  way  a  nervous  glance  at  his  shoes,  which 
showed  two  or  three  spots  of  mud  —  the  pavements 
were  wet  outside.  He  hastened  to  hide  himself  be- 
hind Elfreda  Flood,  and,  thus  sheltered,  surveyed  the 
scene. 

"I  was  just  saying,  Airey,  that  politicians — " 

Arty  Kane  stopped  further  progress  by  the  hasty 
suggestion  of  a  glass  of  sherry,  and  the  two  went  off 
together  to  the  side  room,  where  supper  was  laid,  leav- 
ing the  rest  again  regarding  the  clock — except  Peggy, 
who  had  put  a  half-crown  in  her  glove,  or  her  purse, 
or  her  pocket,  and  could  not  find  it,  and  declared  that 
she  could  not  get  home  unless  she  did ;  she  created 
no  sympathy  and  (were  such  degrees  possible)  less 
surprise,  when  at  last  she  distinctly  recollected  having 
left  it  on  the  piano. 

"Whose  half-crown  on  whose  piano?"  asked  Manson 
Smith,  with  a  forensic  frown. 

When  the  sherry-bibbers  returned  with  the  sur- 
reptitious air  usual  in  such  cases,  the  group  had  un- 
dergone a  marked  change;  it  was  clustered  round  a 
very  brilliant  person  in  a  gown  of  resplendent  blue, 
with  a  flash  of  jewels  about  her,  a  hint  of  perfume,  a 

73 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF   PEGGY 

generally  dazzling  effect.  Miles  Childwick  came  up 
to  Manson  Smith. 

"This,"  said  Childwick,  "we  must  presume  to  be 
Mrs.  Trevalla.  Let  me  be  introduced,  Manson,  before 
my  eyes  are  blinded  by  the  blaze." 

"Is  she  a  new  flame  of  Tommy's?"  asked  Manson, 
in  a  whisper. 

The  question  showed  great  ignorance;  but  Manson 
was  comparatively  an  outsider,  and  Miles  Childwick 
let  it  pass  with  a  scornful  smile. 

"  What  a  pity  we're  not  supping  in  the  public  room!" 
said  Peggy. 

"  We  might  trot  Mrs.  Trevalla  through  first,  in  pro- 
cession, you  know,"  suggested  Tommy.  "It's  aw- 
fully good  of  you  to  come.  I  hardly  dared  ask  you," 
he  added  to  Trix. 

"  I  was  just  as  afraid,  but  Miss  Ryle  encouraged  me. 
I  met  her  two  or  three  nights  ago  at  Mrs.  Bonfill's." 

They  went  in  to  supper.  Trix  was  placed  between 
Tommy  and  Airey  Newton.  Peggy  was  at  the  other 
end,  supported  by  Childwick  and  Arty  Kane.  The 
rest  disposed  themselves,  if  not  according  to  taste, 
yet  with  apparent  harmony;  there  was,  however,  a 
momentary  hesitation  about  sitting  by  Mrs.  John. 
"Mrs.  John  means  just  one  glass  more  champagne 
than  is  good  for  one,"  Childwick  had  once  said,  and 
the  remark  was  felt  to  be  just. 

"No,  politicians  are  essentially  concerned  with  the 
things  that  perish,"  resumed  Miles  Childwick;  he 
addressed  Peggy — Mrs.  John  was  on  his  other  side. 

"Everything  perishes,"  observed  Arty  Kane,  putting 
down  his  empty  soup-cup  with  a  refreshed  and  cheerful 
air. 

"  Do  learn  the  use  of  language.  I  said  '  essentially 
concerned.'  Now  we  are  essentially  concerned  with — " 

74 


CHILDREN    OF   SHADOW 

Trix  Trevalla  heard  the  conversation  in  fragments. 
She  did  not  observe  that  Peggy  took  much  part  in  it, 
but  every  now  and  then  she  laughed  in  a  rich  gurgle, 
as  though  things  and  people  in  general  were  very 
amusing.  Whenever  she  did  this,  all  the  young  men 
looked  at  her  and  smiled,  or  themselves  laughed,  too, 
and  Peggy  laughed  more  and,  perhaps,  blushed  a 
little.  Trix  turned  to  Tommy  and  whispered,  "  I  like 
her." 

"  Rather  1"  said  Tommy.  "  Here,  waiter,  bring  some 
ice." 

Most  of  the  conversation  was  far  less  formidable 
than  Miles  Childwick's.  It  was  for  the  most  part 
frank  and  very  keen  discussion  of  a  number  of  things 
and  persons  entirely,  or  almost  entirely,  unfamiliar 
to  Trix  Trevalla.  On  the  other  hand,  not  one  of  the 
problems  with  which  she,  as  a  citizen  and  as  a  woman, 
had  been  so  occupied  was  mentioned,  and  the  people 
who  filled  her  sky  did  not  seem  to  have  risen  above 
the  horizon  here.  Somebody  did  mention  Russia 
once,  and  Horace  Harnack  expressed  a  desire  to  have 
"  a  slap  "  at  that  great  nation ;  but  politics  were  evident- 
ly an  alien  plant,  and  soon  died  out  of  the  conversa- 
tion. The  last  play  or  the  last  novel,  the  most  recent 
success  on  the  stage,  the  newest  paradox  of  criticism, 
were  the  topics  when  gossip  was  ousted  for  a  few  mo- 
ments from  its  habitual  and  evidently  welcome  sway. 
People's  gossip,  however,  shows  their  tastes  and  habits 
better  than  anything  else,  and  in  this  case  Trix  was 
not  too  dull  to  learn  from  it;  it  reproduced  another 
atmosphere,  and  told  her  that  there  was  another  world 
than  hers.  She  turned  suddenly  to  Airey  Newton. 

"We  talk  of  living  in  London,  but  it's  a  most  in- 
adequate description.  There  must  be  ten  Londons 
to  live  in!" 

75 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"Quite — without  counting  the  slums." 

"  We  ought  to  say  London  A,  or  London  B,  or  Lon- 
don C.  Social  districts,  like  the  postal  ones;  only 
far  more  of  them.  1  suppose  some  people  can  live  in 
more  than  one?" 

"Yes,  a  few;  and  a  good  many  people  pay  visits." 

"Are  you  Bohemian?"  she  asked,  indicating  the 
company  with  a  little  movement  of  her  hand. 

"Look  at  them!"  he  answered.  "They  are  smart 
and  spotless.  I'm  the  only  one  who  looks  the  part 
in  the  least.  And,  behold,  1  am  frugal,  temperate, 
a  hard-worker,  and  a  scientific  man!" 

"There  are  believed  to  be  Bohemians  still  in  Ken- 
sington and  Chelsea,"  observed  Tommy  Trent.  "  They 
will  think  anything  you  please,  but  they  won't  dine 
out  without  their  husbands." 

"If  that's  the  criterion,  we  can  manage  it  nearer 
than  Chelsea,"  said  Trix.  "This  side  of  Park  Lane, 
I  think." 

"You've  got  to  have  the  thinking,  too,  though," 
smiled  Airey. 

Miles  Childwick  had  apparently  been  listening;  he 
raised  his  voice  a  little  and  remarked :  "  The  divorce 
between  the  theoretical  bases  of  immorality — " 

"Falsely  so  called,"  murmured  Manson  Smith. 

"  And  its  practical  development  is  one  of  the  most — " 

It  was  no  use ;  Peggy  gurgled  helplessly  and  hid  her 
face  in  her  napkin.  Childwick  scowled  for  an  instant, 
then  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  smiling  pathetically. 

"She  is  the  living  negation  of  serious  thought," 
he  complained,  regarding  her  affectionately. 

Peggy,  emerging,  darted  him  a  glance  as  she  re- 
turned to  her  chicken. 

"When  I  published  'Myra  Lacrimans' — "  began 
Arty  Kane. 

76 


In  an  instant  everybody  was  silent.  They  leaned 
forward  towards  him  with  a  grave  and  eager  atten- 
tion, signing  to  one  another  to  keep  still.  Tommy 
whispered,  "Don't  move  for  a  moment,  waiter!" 

"Oh,  confound  you  all!"  exclaimed  poor  Arty  Kane, 
as  he  joined  in  the  general  outburst  of  laughter. 

Trix  found  herself  swelling  it  light-heartedly. 

"We've  found  by  experience  that  that's  the  only 
way  to  stop  him,"  Tommy  explained,  as  with  a  gest- 
ure he  released  the  grinning  waiter.  "He'll  talk 
about  'Myra'  through  any  conversation,  but  absolute 
silence  makes  him  shy.  Peggy  found  it  out.  It's 
most  valuable.  Isn't  it,  Mrs.  John?" 

"Most  valuable/'  agreed  Mrs.  John.  She  made 
no  other  contribution  to  the  conversation  for  some 
time. 

"All  the  same,"  Childwick  resumed,  in  a  more  con- 
versational tone  but  with  unabated  perseverance,  "  what 
I  was  going  to  say  is  true.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten 
the  people  who  are — "  He  paused  a  moment. 

"Irregular,"  suggested  Manson  Smith. 

"  Thank  you,  Manson.  The  people  who  are  irregu- 
lar think  they  ought  to  be  regular,  and  the  people  who 
are  regular  have  established  their  right  to  be  irregular. 
There's  a  reason  for  it,  of  course — " 

"It  seems  rather  more  interesting  without  one," 
remarked  Elfreda  Flood. 

"No  reason,  1  think?"  asked  Horace  Harnack,  gath- 
ering the  suffrages  of  the  table. 

"Certainly  not,"  agreed  the  table  as  a  whole. 

"To  give  reasons  is  a  slur  on  our  intellects  and  a 
waste  of  our  time,"  pronounced  Manson  Smith. 

"It's  such  a  terribly  long  while  since  1  heard  any- 
body talk  nonsense  on  purpose,"  Trix  said  to  Airey, 
with  a  sigh  of  enjoyment. 

77 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"They  do  it  all  the  time;  and,  yes,  it's  rather  re- 
freshing." 

"Does  Mr.  Childwick  mind?" 

"Mind?"  interposed  Tommy.  "Gracious,  no!  He's 
playing  the  game,  too;  he  knows  all  about  it.  He 
won't  let  on  that  he  does,  of  course,  but  he  does  all 
the  same." 

"The  reason  is,"  said  Childwick,  speaking  with 
lightning  speed,  "  that  the  intellect  merely  disestablishes 
morality,  while  the  emotions  disregard  it.  Thank  you 
for  having  heard  me  with  such  patience,  ladies  and 
gentlemen."  He  finished  his  champagne  with  a  trium- 
phant air. 

"You  beat  us  that  time,"  said  Peggy,  with  a  smile 
of  congratulation. 

Elfreda  Flood  addressed  Harnack,  apparently  resum- 
ing an  interrupted  conversation. 

"  If  I  wear  green  I  look  horrid,  and  if  she  wears  blue 
she  looks  horrid,  and  if  we  don't  wear  either  green 
or  blue  the  scene  looks  horrid.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know 
what  to  do." 

"It  '11  end  in  your  having  to  wear  green,"  prophesied 
Harnack. 

"I  suppose  it  will,"  Elfreda  moaned,  disconsolately. 
"She  always  gets  her  way." 

"I  happen  to  know  he  reviewed  it,"  declared  Arty 
Kane,  with  some  warmth,  "  because  he  spelled  '  dream- 
ed' with  a  't.'  He  always  does.  And  he'd  dined 
with  me  only  two  nights  before!" 

"Where?"  asked  Manson  Smith. 

"At  my  own  rooms." 

"Then  he  certainly  wrote  it.  I've  dined  with  you 
there  myself." 

Trix  had  fallen  into  silence,  and  Airey  Newton 
seemed  content  not  to  disturb  her.  The  snatches  of 

78 


CHILDREN    OF    SHADOW 

varied  talk  fell  on  her  ears,  each  with  its  implication 
of  a  different  interest  and  a  different  life,  all  foreign 
to  her.  The  very  frivolity,  the  sort  of  school-boy  and 
chaffy  friendliness  of  everybody's  tone,  was  new  in 
her  experience,  when  it  was  united,  as  here  it  seemed 
to  be,  with  a  liveliness  of  wits  and  a  nimble  play  of 
thought.  The  effect,  so  far  as  she  could  sum  it  up, 
was  of  carelessness  combined  with  interest,  indepen- 
dence without  indifference,  an  alertness  of  mind  which 
laughter  softened.  These  people,  she  thought,  were 
all  poor  (she  did  not  include  Tommy  Trent,  who  was 
more  of  her  own  world),  they  were  none  of  them  well 
known,  they  did  not  particularly  care  to  be,  they  aspired 
to  no  great  position.  No  doubt  they  had  to  fight  for 
themselves  sometimes — witness  Elfreda  and  her  battle 
of  the  colors — but  they  fought  as  little  as  they  could, 
and  laughed  while  they  fought,  if  fight  they  must. 
But  they  all  thought  and  felt,  they  had  emotions  and 
brains.  She  knew,  looking  at  Mrs.  John's  delicate, 
fine  face,  that  she,  too,  had  brains,  though  she  did 
not  talk. 

"I  don't  say,"  began  Childwick  once  more,  "that 
when  Mrs.  John  puts  us  in  a  book,  as  she  does  once  a 
year,  she  fails  to  do  justice  to  our  conversation,  but 
she  lamentably  neglects  and  misrepresents  her  own." 

Trix  had  been  momentarily  uneasy,  but  Mrs.  John 
was  smiling  merrily. 

"  1  miss  her  pregnant  assents,  her  brief  but  weighty 
disagreements,  the  rich  background  of  silence  which 
she  imparts  to  the  entertainment." 

Yes,  Mrs.  John  had  brains,  too,  and  evidently  Miles 
Childwick  and  the  rest  knew  it. 

"When  Arty  wrote  a  sonnet  on  Mrs.  John/'  re- 
marked Manson  Smith,  "  he  made  it  only  twelve  lines 
long.  The  outside  world  jeered,  declaring  that  such 

79 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

a  thing  was  unusual,  if  not  ignorant.     But  we  of  the 
elect  traced  the  spiritual  significance." 

"Are  you  enjoying  yourself,  Airey?"  called  Peggy 

Ryle. 

He  nodded  to  her  cordially. 

"What  a  comfort!"  sighed  Peggy.  She  looked 
round  the  table,  laughed,  and  cried  "Hurrah!"  for 
no  obvious  reason. 

Trix  whispered  to  Airey,  "She  nearly  makes  me 
cry  when  she  does  that." 

"You  can  feel  it?"  he  asked,  in  a  quick,  low  ques- 
tion, looking  at  her  curiously. 

"Oh  yes,  I  don't  know  why,"  she  answered,  glancing 
again  at  the  girl  whose  mirth  and  exultation  stirred 
her  to  so  strange  a  mood. 

Her  eyes  turned  back  to  Airey  Newton,  and  found 
a  strong  attraction  in  his  face  too.  The  strength  and 
kindness  of  it,  coming  home  to  her  with  a  keener  realiza- 
tion, were  refined  by  the  ever-present  shadow  of  sorrow 
or  self-discontent.  This  hint  of  melancholy  persisted 
even  while  he  took  his  share  in  the  gayety  of  the  even- 
ing; he  was  cheerful,  but  he  had  not  the  exuberance 
of  most  of  them;  he  was  far  from  bubbling  over  in 
sheer  joyousness  like  Peggy;  he  could  not  achieve 
even  the  unruffled  and  pain-proof  placidity  of  Tommy 
Trent.  Like  herself,  then — in  spite  of  a  superficial 
remoteness  from  her,  and  an  obviously  nearer  kinship 
with  the  company  in  life  and  circumstances — he  was 
in  spirit  something  of  a  stranger  there.  In  the  end 
he,  like  herself,  must  look  on  at  the  fun  rather  than 
share  in  it  whole-heartedly.  There  was  a  background 
for  her  and  him,  rather  dark  and  sombre;  for  the  rest 
there  seemed  to  be  none;  their  joy  blazed  unshadowed. 
Whatever  she  had  or  had  not  attained  in  her  attack 
on  the  world,  however  well  her  critical  and  doubtful 

80 


CHILDREN    OF    SHADOW 

fortunes  might  in  the  end  turn  out,  she  had  not  come 
near  to  reaching  this;  indeed,  it  had  never  yet  been 
set  before  her  eyes  as  a  thing  within  human  reach. 
But  how  naturally  it  belonged  to  Peggy  and  her  friends ! 
There  are  children  of  the  sunlight  and  children  of  the 
shadow.  Was  it  possible  to  pass  from  one  to  the  other, 
to  change  your  origin  and  name?  It  seemed  to  her 
that,  if  she  had  not  been  born  in  the  shadow,  it  had 
fallen  on  her  full  soon  and  heavily,  and  had  stayed 
very  long.  Had  her  life  now,  her  new  life  with  all 
its  brilliance,  quite  driven  it  away?  All  the  day  it 
had  been  dark  and  heavy  on  her;  not  even  now  was 
it  wholly  banished. 

When  the  party  broke  up — it  was  not  an  early  hour 
— Peggy  came  over  to  Airey  Newton.  Trix  did  not 
understand  the  conversation. 

"I  got  your  letter,  but  I'm  not  coming,"  she  said. 
"I  told  you  I  wouldn't  come,  and  I  won't."  She  was 
very  reproachful,  and  seemed  to  consider  that  she 
had  been  insulted  somehow. 

"Oh,  I  say  now,  Peggy!"  urged  Tommy  Trent, 
looking  very  miserable. 

"It's  your  fault,  and  you  know  it,"  she  told  him, 
severely. 

"Well,  everybody  else  is  coming,"  declared  Tommy. 
Airey  said  nothing,  but  nodded  assent  in  a  manner 
half  rueful,  half  triumphant. 

"It's  shameful!"  Peggy  persisted. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Trix,  feeling  like 
an  eavesdropper,  looked  the  other  way,  but  she  could 
not  avoid  hearing. 

"But  I've  had  a  windfall,  Peggy,"  said  Airey  New- 
ton. "On  my  honor,  I  have." 

"Yes,  on  my  honor,  he  has,"  urged  Tommy,  ear- 
nestly. "A  good  thumping  one,  isn't  it,  Airey?" 

6  8l 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

"One  of  my  things  has  been  a  success,  you  know." 

"Oh,  he  hits  'era  in  the  eye  sometimes,  Peggy." 

"Are  you  two  men  telling  anything  like  the  truth?" 

"The  absolute  truth." 

"Bible  truth!"  declared  Tommy  Trent. 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  come,  but  I  don't  think  it  makes 
what  Tommy  did  any  better." 

"Who  cares,  if  you'll  come?"  asked  Tommy. 

Suddenly  Airey  stepped  forward  to  Trix  Trevalla. 
His  manner  was  full  of  hesitation — he  was,  in  fact, 
awkward ;  but  then  he  was  performing  a  most  unusual 
function.  Peggy  and  Tommy  Trent  stood  watching 
him,  now  and  then  exchanging  a  word. 

"He's  going  to  ask  her,"  whispered  Peggy. 

"Hanged  if  he  isn't!"  Tommy  whispered  back. 

"Then  he  must  have  had  it!" 

"I  told  you  so,"  replied  Tommy,  in  an  extraordi- 
narily triumphant,  imperfectly  lowered  voice. 

Yes,  Airey  Newton  was  asking  Trix  to  join  his 
dinner-party. 

"  It's — it's  not  much  in  my  line,"  he  was  heard  ex- 
plaining, "but  Trent's  promised  to  look  after  every- 
thing for  me.  It's  a  small  affair,  of  course,  and — and 
just  a  small  dinner." 

"Is  it?"  whispered  Tommy,  with  a  wink,  but  Peggy 
did  not  hear  this  time. 

"If  you'd  come — " 

"Of  course  I  will,"  said  Trix.  "Write  and  tell  me 
the  day,  and  I  shall  be  delighted."  She  did  not  see 
why  he  should  hesitate  quite  so  much,  but  a  glance  at 
Peggy  and  Tommy  showed  her  that  something  very 
unusual  had  happened. 

"It  '11  be  the  first  dinner-party  he's  ever  given," 
whispered  Peggy,  excitedly,  and  she  added  to  Tommy, 
"Are  you  going  to  order  it,  Tommy?" 

82 


CHILDREN    OF    SHADOW 

"I've  asked  him  to,"  interposed  Airey,  still  with  an 
odd  mixture  of  pride  and  apprehension. 

Peggy  looked  at  Tommy  suspiciously. 

"If  you  don't  behave  well  about  it,  I  shall  get  up 
and  go  away,"  was  her  final  remark. 

Trix's  brougham  was  at  the  door  —  she  found  it 
necessary  now  to  hire  one  for  night-work,  her  own 
horse  and  man  finding  enough  to  do  in  the  daytime 
— and  after  a  moment's  hesitation  she  offered  to  drive 
Airey  Newton  home,  declaring  that  she  would  enjoy 
so  much  of  a  digression  from  her  way.  He  had  been 
looking  on  rather  vaguely  while  the  others  were  divid- 
ing themselves  into  hansom-cab  parties,  and  she  re- 
ceived the  impression  that  he  meant,  when  everybody 
was  paired,  to  walk  off  quietly  by  himself.  Peggy 
overheard  her  invitation  and  said  with  a  sort  of  relief : 

"That  11  do  splendidly,  Airey!" 

Airey  agreed,  but  it  seemed  with  more  embarrass- 
ment than  pleasure. 

But  Trix  was  pleased  to  prolong,  even  by  so  little, 
the  atmosphere  and  associations  of  the  evening,  to 
be  able  to  talk  about  it  a  little  more,  to  question  him 
while  she  questioned  herself  also  indirectly.  She 
put  him  through  a  catechism  about  the  members  of 
the  party,  delighted  to  elicit  anything  that  confirmed 
her  notion  of  their  independence,  their  carelessness, 
and  their  comradeship.  He  answered  what  she  asked, 
but  in  a  rather  absent,  melancholy  fashion;  a  pall 
seemed  to  have  fallen  on  his  spirits  again.  She  turned 
to  him,  attracted,  not  repelled,  by  his  relapse  into 
sadness. 

"We're  not  equal  to  it,  you  and  I,"  she  said  with  a 
laugh.  "  We  don't  live  there ;  we  can  only  pay  a  visit, 
as  you  said." 

He  nodded,  leaning  back  against  the  well-padded 

83 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

cushions  with  an  air  of  finding  unwonted  ease.     He 
looked  tired  and  worn. 

"  Why?  We  work  too  hard,  I  suppose.  Yes,  I  work, 
too,  in  ray  way." 

"It's  not  work  exactly/'  he  said.  "They  work, 
too,  you  know." 

"What  is  it,  then?"  She  bent  forward  to  look  at 
his  face,  pale  in  the  light  of  the  small  .carriage-lamp. 

"It's  the  devil,"  he  told  her.  Their  eyes  met  in  a 
long  gaze.  Trix  smiled  appealingly.  She  had  to  go 
back  to  her  difficult  life — to  Mervyn,  to  the  Chance 
and  Fricker  entanglement.  She  felt  alone  and  afraid. 

"The  devil,  is  it?  Have  I  raised  him?"  she  asked. 
"Well,  you  taught  me  how.  If  I — if  I  come  to  grief, 
you  must  help  me." 

"  You  don't  know  in  the  least  the  sort  of  man  you're 
talking  to,"  he  declared,  almost  roughly. 

"I  know  you're  a  good  friend." 

"I  am  not,"  said  Airey  Newton. 

Again  their  eyes  met,  their  hearts  were  like  to  open 
and  tell  secrets  that  daylight  hours  would  hold  safely 
hidden.  But  it  is  not  far — save  in  the  judgment  of 
fashion — from  the  Magnifique  to  Danes  Inn,  and  the 
horse  moved  at  a  good  trot.  They  came  to  a  stand 
before  the  gates. 

"I  don't  take  your  word  for  that,"  she  declared, 
giving  him  her  hand.  "I  sha'n't  believe  it  without 
a  test,"  she  went  on,  in  a  lighter  tone.  "And,  at  any 
rate,  I  sha'n't  fail  at  your  dinner-party." 

"No,  don't  fail  at  my  party — my  only  party."  His 
smile  was  very  bitter  as  he  relinquished  her  hand 
and  opened  the  door  of  the  brougham.  But  she  de- 
tained him  a  moment;  she  was  still  reluctant  to  lose 
him,  to  be  left  alone,  to  be  driven  back  to  her  flat  and 
to  her  life. 

84 


CHILDREN    OF    SHADOW 

"We're  nice  people!  We  have  a  splendid  evening, 
and  we  end  it  up  in  the  depths  of  woe!  At  least 
— you're  in  them,  too,  aren't  you?"  She  glanced 
past  him  up  the  gloomy  passage  and  gave  a  little 
shudder.  "  How  could  you  be  anything  else,  living 
here?"  she  cried,  in  accents  of  pity. 

"You  don't  live  here,  yet  you  don't  seem  much 
better/'  he  retorted.  "You  are  beautiful  and  beauti- 
fully turned  out — gorgeous.  And  your  brougham  is 
most  comfortable.  Yet  you  don't  seem  much  better. " 

Trix  was  put  on  her  defence;  she  awoke  suddenly 
to  the  fact  that  she  had  been  very  near  to  a  mood  dan- 
gerously confidential. 

"I've  a  few  worries,"  she  laughed,  "but  I  have  my 
pleasures  too." 

"And  I've  my  pleasures,"  said  Airey.  "And  I 
suppose  we  both  find  them  in  the  end  the  best.  Good- 
night." 

Each  had  put  out  a  hand  towards  the  veil  that  was 
between  them;  to  each  had  come  an  impulse  to  pluck 
it  away.  But  courage  failed,  and  it  hung  there  still. 
Both  went  back  to  their  pleasures.  In  the  ears  of 
both  Peggy  Ryle's  whole-hearted  laughter,  her  soft, 
merry  "Hurrah!"  that  no  obvious  cause  called  forth, 
echoed  with  the  mockery  of  an  unattainable  delight. 
You  need  clear  soul-space  for  a  laugh  like  that. 


VII 

A  DANGEROUS  GAME 

THHERE  were  whispers  about  Beaufort  Chance,  and 
1  nods  and  winks  such  as  a  man  in  his  position 
had  better  have  given  no  occasion  for;  men  told  one 
another  things  in  confidence  at  the  club;  they  were 
quite  sure  of  them,  but  at  the  same  time  very  anxious 
not  to  be  vouched  as  authority.  For  there  seemed 
no  proof.  The  list  of  share-holders  of  the  Dramoff- 
sky  Concessions  did  not  display  his  name ;  it  did  dis- 
play, as  owners  of  blocks  of  shares,  now  larger,  now 
smaller,  a  number  of  names  unknown  to  fame,  so- 
cial or  financial;  even  Pricker's  interest  was  modest 
according  to  the  list,  and  Beaufort  Chance's  seemed 
absolutely  nothing.  Yet  still  the  whispers  grew. 

Beaufort  knew  it  by  the  subtle  sense  that  will  tell 
men  who  depend  on  what  people  say  of  them  what 
people  are  saying.  He  divined  it  with  a  politician's 
sensitiveness  to  opinion.  He  saw  a  touch  of  embar- 
rassment where  he  was  accustomed  to  meet  frank- 
ness, he  discerned  constraint  in  quarters  where  ever3T- 
thing  had  been  cordiality.  He  perceived  the  riskiness 
of  the  game  he  played.  He  urged  Fricker  to  secrecy 
and  to  speed ;  they  must  not  be  seen  together  so  much, 
and  the  matter  must  be  put  through  quickly;  these 
were  his  two  requirements.  He  was  in  something 
of  a  terror;  his  manner  grew  nervous  and  his  face 
careworn.  He  knew  that  he  could  look  for  little  mercy 

86 


A    DANGEROUS    GAME 

if  he  were  discovered ;  he  had  outraged  the  code.  But 
he  held  on  his  way.  His  own  money  was  in  the  vent- 
ure ;  if  it  were  lost  he  was  crippled  in  the  race  on  which 
he  had  entered.  Trix  Trevalla's  money  was  in  it, 
too;  he  wanted  Trix  Trevalla  and  he  wanted  her  rich. 
He  was  so  hard-driven  by  anxiety  that  he  no  longer 
scrupled  to  put  these  things  plainly  to  himself.  His 
available  capital  had  not  sufficed  for  a  big  stroke; 
hers  and  his,  if  he  could  consider  them  as  united,  and 
if  the  big  stroke  succeeded,  meant  a  decent  fortune; 
it  was  a  fine  scheme  to  get  her  to  make  him  rich  while 
at  the  same  time  he  earned  her  gratitude.  He  depended 
on  Flicker  to  manage  this ;  he  was,  by  himself,  rather 
a  helpless  man  in  such  affairs.  Mrs.  Bonfill  had  never 
expected  that  he  would  rise  to  the  top,  even  while  she 
was  helping  him  to  rise  as  high  as  he  could. 

Fricker  was  not  inclined  to  hurry  himself,  and  he 
played  with  the  plea  for  secrecj*  in  a  way  that  showed 
a  consciousness  of  power  over  his  associate.  He  had 
been  in  one  or  two  scandals,  and  to  be  in  another  would 
have  interfered  with  his  plans — or  at  least  with  Mrs. 
Flicker's.  Yet  there  is  much  difference  between  a 
man  who  does  not  want  any  more  scandals  and  him 
who,  for  the  sake  of  a  great  prize  risking  one,  would 
be  ruined  if  his  venture  miscarried.  Flicker's  shrewd, 
equable  face  displayed  none  of  the  trouble  which  made 
Chance's  heavy  and  careworn. 

But  there  was  hurry  in  Flicker's  family,  though 
not  in  Fricker.  The  season  was  half  gone,  little  prog- 
ress had  been  made,  effect  from  Trix  Trevalla's  pat- 
ronage or  favor  was  conspicuously  lacking.  Mrs. 
Fricker  did  not  hesitate  to  impute  double-dealing  to 
Trix,  to  declare  that  she  meant  to  give  nothing  and 
to  take  all  she  could.  Fricker  had  a  soul  somewhat 
above  these  small  matters,  but  he  observed  honor  with 

87 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

his  wife — for  his  oath's  sake  and  a  quiet  life.  More- 
over, be  the  affair  what  it  would,  suggest  to  him  that 
he  was  being  "  bested  "  in  it  and  he  became  dangerous. 

A  word  is  necessary  about  the  position  of  Dramoff- 
skys.  They  had  collapsed  badly  on  Lord  Farring- 
ham's  pessimistic  speech.  Presently  they  began  to 
revive  on  the  strength  of  "inside  buying";  yet  their 
rise  was  slow  and  languid,  the  Stock  Exchange  was 
distrustful,  the  public  would  not  come  in.  There 
was  a  nice  little  profit  ("Not  a  scoop  at  present,"  ob- 
served Fricker)  for  those  who  had  bought  at  the  lowest 
figure,  but  more  rumors  would  stop  the  rise  and  might 
send  quotations  tumbling  again.  It  was  all-important 
to  know,  or  to  be  informed  by  somebody  who  did,  just 
how  long  to  hold  on,  just  when  to  come  out.  Dramoff- 
skys,  in  fine,  needed  a  great  deal  of  watching;  the 
operator  in  them  required  the  earliest,  best,  and  most 
confidential  information  that  he  could  get.  Fricker 
was  the  operator.  Beaufort  Chance  had  his  sphere. 
Trix,  it  will  be  noticed,  was  inclined  to  behave  purely 
as  a  sleeping  partner,  which  was  all  very  well  as  re- 
garded Dramoffskys  themselves,  but  very  far  from 
well  as  it  touched  her  relations  towards  her  fellows 
in  the  game. 

Trix  was  praying  for  speed  and  secrecy  as  urgently 
as  Beaufort  Chance  himself;  for  secrecy  from  Mrs. 
Bonfill,  from  Mervyn,  from  all  her  eminent  friends; 
for  speed  that  the  enterprise  might  be  prosperously 
accomplished,  the  money  made,  and  she  be  free  again. 
No  more  ventures  for  her,  if  once  she  were  free,  she 
declared.  If  once  she  were — free!  There  she  would 
pause  and  insist  with  herself  that  she  had  given  Beau- 
fort Chance  no  reason  to  expect  more  than  the  friend- 
ship which  was  all  that  he  had  openly  claimed,  nor 
the  Frickers  any  right  to  look  for  greater  countenance 

88 


A   DANGEROUS    GAME 

or  aid  than  her  own  acquaintance  and  hospitality 
insured  them.  Had  she  ever  promised  to  marry 
Chance,  or  to  take  the  Prickers  to  Mrs.  Bonfill's  or 
the  Glentorlys'?  She  defied  them  to  prove  any  such 
thing — and  looked  forward  with  terror  to  telling  them 
so. 

At  this  point  Mr.  Liffey  made  entry  on  the  scene 
with  an  article  in  the  Sentinel.  Mr.  Liffey  had  a 
terribly  keen  nose  for  misdeeds  of  all  sorts,  and  for  se- 
crets most  inconvenient  if  disclosed.  He  was  entirely 
merciless  and  inexhaustibly  good-natured.  He  never 
abused  anybody;  he  dealt  with  facts,  leaving  each 
person  to  judge  those  facts  by  his  own  moral  standard. 
He  had  no  moral  standard  of  his  own,  or  said  so;  but 
he  had  every  idea  of  making  the  Sentinel  a  paying 
property.  He  came  out  now  with  an  article  whose 
heading  seemed  to  harm  nobody — since  people  with 
certain  names  must  by  now  be  hardened  to  hav- 
ing their  patronymics  employed  in  a  representative 
capacity.  "Who  are  Brown,  Jones,  and  Robinson?" 
was  the  title  of  the  article  in  the  Sentinel.  As  the 
reader  proceeded — and  there  were  many  readers — he 
found  no  more  about  these  names,  and  gathered  that 
Mr.  Liffey  employed  them  (with  a  touch  of  contempt, 
maybe)  to  indicate  those  gentlemen  who,  themselves 
unknown  to  fame,  figured  so  largely  in  the  share  list 
of  Dramoffskys.  With  a  persistence  worthy  of  some 
better  end  than  that  of  making  fellow-creatures  un- 
comfortable, or  of  protecting  a  public  that  can  hardly 
be  said  to  deserve  it,  Mr.  Liffey  tracked  these  unoffend- 
ing gentlemen  to  the  honorable,  though  modest,  subur- 
ban homes  in  which  they  dwelt,  had  the  want  of  delicacy 
to  disclose  their  avocations  and  the  amount  of  their 
salaries,  touched  jestingly  on  the  probable  claims  of 
their  large  families  (he  had  their  children  bv  name!), 

89 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF   PEGGY 

and  ended  by  observing,  with  an  innocent  surprise, 
that  their  holdings  in  Dramoffskys  showed  them  to 
possess  either  resources  of  which  his  staff  had  not 
been  able  to  inform  him,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  a  com- 
mercial enterprise  which  deserved  higher  remuneration 
than  they  appeared  to  be  enjoying.  He  then  suggested 
that  present  share-holders  and  intending  investors  in 
Dramoffskys  might  find  the  facts  stated  in  his  article 
of  some  interest,  and  avowed  his  intention  of  pursuing 
his  researches  into  this  apparent  mystery.  He  ended 
by  remarking,  "  Of  course,  should  it  turn  out  that 
these  gentlemen,  against  whom  I  have  not  a  word  to 
say,  hold  their  shares  in  a  fiduciary  capacity,  I  have 
no  more  to  say — no  more  about  them,  at  least."  And 
he  promised,  with  cheerful  obligingness,  to  deal  further 
with  this  point  in  his  next  number. 

Within  an  hour  of  the  appearance  of  this  article 
Beaufort  Chance  entered  Pricker's  study  in  great  per- 
turbation. He  found  that  gentleman  calm  and  com- 
posed. 

"How  much  does  Liffey  know?"  asked  Chance, 
almost  trembling. 

Fricker  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "It  doesn't  much 
matter." 

"If  he  knows  that  I'm  in  it,  that  I've—" 

"  He  won't  know  you're  in  it,  unless  one  of  the  fel- 
lows gives  us  away.  Clarkson  knows  about  you,  and 
Tyrnvhitt — none  of  the  rest.  I  think  I  can  keep  them 
quiet.  And  we'll  get  out  now.  It's  not  as  good  as 
I  hoped,  but  it's  pretty  good,  and  it's  time  to  go."  He 
looked  up  at  Chance  and  licked  his  cigar.  "Now's 
the  moment  to  settle  matters  with  the  widow,"  he 
went  on.  "  You  go  and  tell  her  what  1  want  and  what 
you  want.  1  don't  trust  her,  and  1  want  to  see;  and, 
Beaufort,  don't  tell  her  about  Dramoffskys  till  you 

90 


find  out  what  she  means.  If  she's  playing  square, 
all  right.  If  not  " — he  smiled  pensively — "  she  may 
find  out  for  herself  the  best  time  for  selling  Dramoff- 
skys — and  Glowing  Stars,  too." 

"Glowing  Stars?  She's  not  deep  in  them,  is  she? 
I  know  nothing  about  them." 

"A  little  private  flutter — just  between  her  and  me," 
Fricker  assured  him.  "No\v  there's  no  time  to  lose. 
Come  back  here  and  tell  me  what  happens.  Make 
her  understand — no  nonsense!  No  more  shuffling! 
Be  quick.  I  shall  hold  up  the  market  a  bit  while  our 
men  get  out,  but  I  won't  let  you  in  for  anything  more." 
Pricker's  morals  may  have  been  somewhat  to  seek, 
but  he  was  a  fine  study  at  critical  moments. 

"You  don't  think  Liffey  knows — "  stammered 
Chance  again. 

"About  those  little  hints  of  yours?  I  hope  not. 
But  I  know,  Beaufort,  my  boy.  Do  as  well  as  you 
can  for  me  with  the  widow." 

Beaufort  Chance  scowled  as  he  poured  himself  out 
a  whiskey-and-soda.  But  he  was  Pricker's  man  and 
he  must  obey.  He  went  out,  the  spectre  of  Mr.  Liffey 
seeming  to  walk  with  him  and  to  tap  him  on  the 
shoulder  in  a  genial  way. 

At  eleven  o'clock  Beaufort  Chance  arrived  at  Trix 
Trevalla's  and  sent  up  his  name.  Mrs.  Tre valla 
sent  down  to  say  that  she  would  be  glad  to  see  him 
at  lunch.  He  returned  that  his  business  was  im- 
portant and  would  not  bear  delay.  In  ten  minutes 
he  found  himself  in  her  presence.  She  wore  a  loose 
morning-gown,  her  hair  was  carefully  dressed,  she 
looked  very  pretty;  there  was  an  air  of  excitement 
about  her;  fear  and  triumph  seemed  to  struggle  for 
ascendency  in  her  manner.  She  laid  a  letter  down 
on  the  table  by  her  as  he  entered.  While  they  talked/ 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

she  kept  putting  her  hand  on  it  and  withdrawing  it 
again,  pulling  the  letter  towards  her  and  pushing  it 
away,  fingering  it  continually,  while  she  kept  a  watch- 
ful eye  on  her  companion. 

"  What's  the  hurry  about?"  she  asked,  with  a  languor 
that  was  not  very  plausible.  "Dramoffskys?" 

"Dramoffskys  are  all  right,"  said  he,  deliberately, 
as  he  sat  down  opposite  her.  "  But  I  want  a  talk  with 
you,  Trix." 

"Did  we  settle  that  you  were  to  call  me  Trix?" 

"I  think  of  you  as  that." 

"Well,  but  that's  much  less  compromising — and 
just  as  complimentary." 

"Business!  business!"  he  smiled,  giving  her  ap- 
pearance an  approving  glance.  "Fricker  and  I  have 
been  having  a  talk.  We're  not  satisfied  with  you, 
partner. "  He  had  for  the  time  conquered  his  agitation, 
and  was  able  to  take  a  tone  which  he  hoped  would 
persuade  her,  without  any  need  of  threats  or  of  dis- 
agreeable hints. 

"Am  I  not  most  amiable  to  Mr.  Fricker,  and  Mrs., 
and  Miss?"  Trix's  face  had  clouded  at  the  first  men- 
tion of  Fricker. 

"You  women  are  generally  hopeless  in  business, 
but  I  expected  better  things  from  you.  Now  let's 
come  to  the  point.  What  have  you  done  for  the 
Frickers?" 

Reluctantly  brought  to  the  point,  Trix  recounted 
with  all  possible  amplitude  what  she  considered  she 
had  done.  Her  hand  was  often  on  the  letter  as  she 
spoke.  At  the  end,  with  a  quick  glance  at  Beaufort, 
she  said : 

"  And,  really,  that's  all  I  can  do.  They're  too  im- 
possible, you  know." 

He  rose  and  stood  on  the  hearth-rug. 

92 


A    DANGEROUS    GAME 

"  That's  all  you  can  do?"  he  asked,  in  a  level,  smooth 
roice. 

"Yes.  Oh,  a  few  more  big  squashes,  perhaps. 
But  it's  nonsense  talking  of  the  Glentorlys  or  of  any 
of  Mrs.  Bonfill's  really  nice  evenings." 

"It's  not  nonsense.  You  could  do  it  if  you  liked. 
You  know  Mrs.  Bonfill,  anyhow,  would  do  it  to  please 
you;  and  I  believe  the  Glentorlys  would,  too." 

"Well,  then,  1  don't  like,"  said  Trix  Trevalla. 

He  frowned  heavily  and  seemed  as  if  he  were  going 
to  break  out  violently.  But  he  waited  a  moment  and 
then  spoke  calmly  again.  The  truth  is  that  Pricker's 
interests  were  nothing  to  him.  They  might  go,  provid- 
ed he  could  show  that  he  had  done  his  best  for  them; 
but  doing  his  best  must  not  involve  sacrificing  his 
own  chances. 

"So  much  for  Fricker!  I  must  say  you've  a  cool 
way  with  you,  Trix." 

"The  way  you  speak  annoys  me  very  much  some- 
times," remarked  Trix,  reflectively. 

"  Why  do  you  suppose  he  interested  himself  in  your 
affairs?" 

"I've  done  what  I  could."  Her  lips  shut  obstinate- 
ly. "If  I  try  to  do  more  I  sha'n't  help  the  Prickers, 
and  I  shall  hurt  myself." 

"  That's  candid,  at  all  events. "  He  smiled  a  moment. 
"Don't  be  in  a  hurry  to  say  it  to  Fricker,  though." 

"It  '11  be  best  to  let  the  truth  dawn  on  him  gradu- 
ally," smiled  Trix.  "Is  that  all  you  wanted  to  say? 
Because  I'm  not  dressed,  and  I  promised  to  be  at  the 
Glentorlys'  at  half-past  twelve/' 

"No,  it's  not  all  I've  got  to  say." 

"Oh,  well,  be  quick  then." 

Her  indifference  was  overdone,  and  Beaufort  saw 
it.  A  suspicion  came  into  his  mind.  "So  much  for 

93 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Flicker!"  he  had  said.     Did  she  dare  to  think  of  met- 
ing out  the  same  cavalier  treatment  to  him? 

"I  wish  you'd  attend  to  me  and  let  that  letter  alone/' 
he  said,  in  a  sudden  spasm  of  irritation. 

"As  soon  as  you  begin,  I'll  attend/'  retorted  Trix; 
"but  you're  not  saying  anything.  You're  only  say- 
ing you're  going  to  say  something."  Her  manner 
was  annoying;  perhaps  she  \vould  have  welcomed 
the  diversion  of  a  little  quarrel. 

But  Beaufort  was  not  to  be  turned  aside;  he  was 
bent  on  business.  Fricker,  it  seemed,  was  disposed  of. 
He  remained.  ,  But  before  he  could  formulate  a  be- 
ginning to  this  subject,  Trix  broke  in: 

"I  want  to  get  out  of  these  speculations  as  soon  as 
I  can,"  she  said.  "I  don't  mind  about  not  making 
any  more  money,  as  long  as  I  don't  lose  any.  I'm 
tired  of — of  the  suspense,  and — and  so  on.  And,  oh, 
I  won't  have  anything  more  to  do  with  the  Frick- 
ers!" 

He  looked  at  her  in  quick  distrust. 

"  Your  views  have  undergone  a  considerable  change," 
he  remarked.  "You  don't  want  to  speculate!  You 
don't  mind  about  not  making  any  more  money!" 

Trix  looked  down  and  would  not  meet  his  eyes. 

"Going  to  live  on  what  you've  got?"  he  asked, 
mockingly.  "  Or  is  it  a  case  of  cutting  down  expenses 
and  retiring  to  the  country?" 

"I  don't  want  to  discuss  my  affairs.  I've  told  you 
what  I  wish." 

He  took  a  turn  across  the  room  and  came  back. 
His  voice  was  still  calm,  but  the  effort  was  obvious. 

"What's  happened?"  he  asked. 

"Nothing,"  said  Trix. 

"That's  not  true." 

"Nothing  that  concerns  you,  I  mean." 

94 


A    DANGEROUS    GAME 

"Am  I  to  be  treated  like  Fricker?  Do  you  want 
to  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  me?" 

"Nonsense!     I  want  us  to  be  friends,  of  course." 

"You  seem  to  think  you  can  use  men  just  as  you 
please.  As  long  as  they're  useful  you'll  be  pleasant 
— you'll  promise  anything — " 

"I  never  promised  anything." 

"Oh,  women  don't  promise  only  in  words.  You'll 
promise  anything,  hold  out  any  hopes,  let  anything 
be  understood!  No  promises,  no!  You  don't  like 
actual  lying,  perhaps,  but  you'll  lie  all  the  while  in 
your  actions  and  your  looks." 

People  not  themselves  impeccable  sometimes  enun- 
ciate moral  truths  and  let  them  lose  little  in  the  telling. 
Trix  sat  flushed,  miserable,  and  degraded  as  Beaufort 
Chance  exhibited  her  ways  to  her. 

"  You  hold  them  off,  and  draw  them  on,  and  twiddle 
them  about  your  finger,  and  get  all  you  can  out  of 
them,  and  make  fools  of  them.  Then — something 
happens!  Something  that  doesn't  concern  them! 
And,  for  all  you  care,  they  may  go  to  the  devil !  They 
may  ruin  themselves  for  you.  What  of  that?  I  dare 
say  I've  ruined  myself  for  you.  What  of  that?" 

Trix  was  certainly  no  more  than  partly  responsible 
for  any  trouble  in  which  Mr.  Chance's  dealings  might 
land  him;  but  we  cannot  attend  to  our  own  faults  in 
the  very  hour  of  preaching  to  others.  Chance  seemed 
to  himself  a  most  ill-used  man;  he  had  no  doubt  that 
but  for  Trix  Trevalla  he  would  have  followed  an  un- 
deviatingly  straight  path  in  public  and  private  morality. 

"Well,  what  have  you  got  to  say?"  he  demanded, 
roughly,  almost  brutally. 

"I've  nothing  to  say  while  you  speak  like  that." 

"Didn't  you  lead  me  to  suppose  you  liked  me?" 

"I  did  like  you." 

95 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"Stuff!  You  know  what  I  mean.  When  I  helped 
you — when  I  introduced  Flicker  to  you — was  that 
only  friendship?  You  knew  better.  And  at  that 
time  I  was  good  enough  for  you.  I'm  not  good  enough 
for  you  now.  So  I'm  kicked  out  with  Fricker!  It's 
a  precious  dangerous  game  you  play,  Trix." 

"Don't  call  me  Trix!" 

"  I  might  call  you  worse  than  that,  and  not  do  you 
any  wrong." 

Among  the  temporal  punishments  of  sin  and  folly 
there  is  perhaps  none  harder  to  bear  than  the  necessity 
of  accepting  rebuke  from  unworthy  lips,  of  feeling 
ourselves  made  inferior  by  our  own  acts  to  those  tow- 
ards whom  we  really  (of  this  we  are  clear)  stand  in  a 
position  of  natural  superiority.  Their  fortuitous  ad- 
vantage is  the  most  unpleasant  result  of  our  little 
slips.  Trix  realized  the  truth  of  these  reflections 
as  she  listened  to  Beaufort  Chance.  Once  again  the 
scheme  of  life  with  which  she  had  started  in  London 
seemed  to  have  something  very  wrong  with  it. 

"I — I'm  sorry  if  I  made  you — "  she  began,  in  a 
stammering  way. 

"Don't  lie.  It  was  deliberate  from  beginning  to 
end,"  he  interrupted. 

A  silence  followed.  Trix  fingered  her  letter.  He 
stood  there,  motionless  but  threatening.  She  was 
in  simple  bodily  fear;  the  order  not  to  lie  seemed  the 
precursor  of  a  blow — just  as  it  used  to  be  in  early  days 
when  her  mother's  nerves  were  very  bad;  but  then 
Mrs.  Trevalla's  blows  had  not  been  severe,  and  habit 
goes  for  something.  This  recrudescence  of  the  tone 
of  the  old  life — the  oldest  life  of  all — was  horrible. 

Of  course  Beaufort  Chance  struck  no  blow;  it  would 
have  been  ungentlemanly  in  the  first  place;  in  the 
second,  it  was  unnecessarv;  thirdly,  useless.  Among 

96 


A    DANGEROUS    GAME 

men  of  his  class  the  distinction  lies,  not  in  doing  or 
not  doing  such  things,  but  in  wanting  or  not  wanting 
to  do  them.  Beaufort  Chance  had  the  desire;  his 
bearing  conveyed  it  to  Trix.  But  he  spoke  quietly 
enough  the  next  minute. 

"  You'll  find  you  can't  go  on  in  this  fashion,"  he  said. 
"  I  don't  know  what  your  plan  is  now,  though  perhaps 
I  can  guess.  You  mean  to  start  afresh,  eh?  Not 
always  so  easy."  His  look  and  voice  were  full  of  a 
candid  contempt ;  he  spoke  to  her  as  a  criminal  might 
to  his  confederate  who  had  "  rounded  on  "  him  in  con- 
sideration of  favors  from  the  police. 

He  did  not  strike  her,  but  in  the  end,  suddenly  and 
with  a  coarse  laugh,  he  stooped  down  and  wrenched 
the  letter  from  her  hand,  not  caring  if  he  hurt  her. 
She  gave  a  little  cry,  but  sat  there  without  a  move- 
ment save  to  chafe  her  wrenched  fingers  softly  against 
the  palm  of  the  other  hand.  Beaufort  Chance  read 
the  letter ;  it  was  very  short :  "  I  knew  you  would  do 
what  I  wish.  Expect  me  to-morrow. — M." 

Trix  wanted  to  feel  horrified  at  his  conduct — at 
its  brutality,  its  license,  its  absolute  ignoring  of  all 
the  canons  of  decent  conduct.  Look  at  him,  as  he 
stood  there  reading  her  letter,  jeering  at  it  in  a  ran- 
corous scorn  and  a  derision  charged  with  hatred! 
She  could  not  concentrate  her  indignation  on  her  own 
wrong.  Suddenly  she  saw  his  too — his  and  Pricker's. 
She  was  outraged;  but  the  outrage  persisted  in  hav- 
ing a  flavor  of  deserved  punishment.  It  was  brutal; 
was  it  unjust?  On  that  question  she  stuck  fast  as 
she  looked  up  and  saw  him  reading  her  letter.  The 
next  instant  he  tore  it  across  and  flung  it  into  the  grate 
behind  him. 

"You'll  do  as  he  wishes!"  he  sneered.     "He  knows 
you  will!     Yes,  he  knows  you're  for  sale,  I  suppose, 
7  97 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

just  as  I  know  it,  and  as  Flicker  knows  it.  He  can 
bid  higher,  eh?  Well,  I  hope  he'll  get  delivery  of 
the  goods  he  buys.  We  haven't." 

He  buttoned  his  frock-coat  and  looked  round  for 
his  hat. 

"Well,  I've  got  a  lot  to  do.  I  must  go,"  he  said, 
with  a  curious  unconscious  return  to  the  ordinary 
tone  and  manner  of  society.  "Good-bye!" 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Chance,"  said  Trix,  stretching 
out  her  hand  towards  the  bell. 

"I'll  let  myself  out,"  he  interposed,  hastily. 

Trix  rose  slowly  to  her  feet;  she  was  rather  pale 
and  had  some  trouble  to  keep  her  lips  from  twitching. 
Speak  she  could  not;  her  brain  would  do  nothing  but 
repeat  his  words ;  it  would  not  denounce  him  for  them, 
nor  impugn  their  truth;  it  would  only  repeat  them. 
Whether  they  were  just  or  not  was  a  question  that 
seemed  to  fall  into  the  background ;  it  was  enough 
that  anybody  should  be  able  to  use  them  and  find 
her  without  a  reply. 

Yet  when  he  was  gone  her  feeling  was  one  of  great 
relief.  The  thing  had  been  as  bad  as  it  could  be,  but 
it  was  done.  It  was  over  and  finished.  The  worst 
had  come — was  known,  measured,  and  endured.  At 
that  price  she  was  free.  She  was  degraded,  bruised, 
beaten,  but  free.  Chastened  enough  to  perceive  the 
truths  with  which  Beaufort  Chance  had  assailed  her 
so  unsparingly,  she  was  not  so  changed  in  heart  but 
that  she  still  rejoiced  to  think  that  the  object  towards 
which  she  worked,  in  whose  interest  she  had  exposed 
herself  to  such  a  lashing,  was  still  possible,  really 
unprejudiced,  in  fact  hers  if  she  would  have  it.  The 
letter  was  gone,  but  the  promise  of  the  letter  lived. 

Suddenly  another  thing  occurred  to  her.  What 
about  Dramoffskys?  What  about  her  precious  money? 


A   DANGEROUS   GAME 

There  she  was,  in  the  hands  of  these  men  whom  she 
had  flouted  and  enraged,  so  ignorant  that  she  could 
do  nothing  for  herself,  absolutely  at  their  mercy.  What 
would  they  do?  Would  they  wash  their  hands  of  her? 

"  Well,  if  they  do — and  I  suppose  they  will — I  must 
sell  everything  directly,  even  if  I  lose  by  it,"  she 
thought.  "That's  the  only  thing,  and  I  sha'n't  be 
quite  ruined,  I  hope." 

Alas,  how  we  misjudge  our  fellow-creatures!  This 
trite  reflection,  alwaj^s  useful  as  a  corrective  either  to 
cynicism  or  to  enthusiasm,  was  to  recur  to  Trix  before 
the  close  of  the  day  and  to  add  one  more  to  its  already 
long  list  of  emotions.  Wash  their  hands  of  her?  Con- 
cern themselves  no  more  with  her?  That  was  not,  it 
seemed,  Mr.  Pricker's  intention,  an3rhow.  The  even- 
ing post  brought  her  a  letter  from  him ;  she  opened  it 
with  shrinking,  fearing  fresh  denunciations,  feeling 
herself  little  able  to  bear  any  more  flagellation.  Yet 
she  opened  it  on  the  spot ;  she  was  unavoidably  anxious 
about  Dramoffskys. 

Threats !  Flagellation !  Nothing  of  the  sort.  Flick- 
er wrote  in  the  friendliest  mood ;  he  was  almost  playful : 

"  MY  DEAR  MRS.  TREVALLA,— I  understand  from  our  friend 
Beaufort  Chance  that  he  had  an  interview  with  you  to-day.  I 
have  nothing  to  do  with  what  concerns  you  and  him  only,  and 
no  desire  to  meddle.  But  as  regards  myself  I  fear  that  his  friendly 
zeal  may  have  given  you  rather  a  mistaken  impression.  I  am 
grateful  for  your  kindness,  which  is,  I  know,  limited  only  by 
your  ability  to  serve  me,  and  I  shall  think  it  a  privilege  to  look 
after  your  interests  as  long  as  you  leave  them  in  my  charge.  I 
gather  from  Chance  that  you  are  anxious  to  sell  your  Dramoffskys 
at  the  first  favorable  moment.  I  will  bear  this  in  mind.  Let 
me,  however,  take  the  liberty  of  advising  you  to  think  twice  before 
you  part  with  your  Glowing  Stars.  I  hear  good  reports,  and 
even  a  moderate  rise  would  give  you  a  very  nice  little  profit  on 
the  small  sum  which  you  intrusted  to  me  for  investment  in  G. 

99 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

S.  s.  Of  course  you  must  use  your  own  judgment,  and  I  can 
guarantee  nothing ;  but  you  will  not  have  found  my  advice  often 
wrong.  I  may  sell  some  of  your  Dramoffskys  and  put  the  pro- 
ceeds in  G.  S.'s. 

"  I  am,  dear  Mrs.  Trevalla, 

"  With  every  good  wish, 

"  Very  faithfully  yours, 

"SYDNEY  FRICKER." 

There  was  nothing  wherewith  to  meet  this  letter 
save  a  fit  of  remorse,  a  very  kindly  note  to  Mr.  Fricker, 
and  a  regret  that  it  was  really  impossible  to  do  much 
for  the  Frickers.  These  emotions  and  actions  duly 
occurred;  and  Trix  Trevalla  went  to  bed  in  a  more 
tolerable  frame  of  mind  than  had  at  one  time  seemed 
probable. 

The  gentlemen  unknown  to  fame  sold  Dramoffskys 
largely  that  day,  and  at  last,  in  spite  of  Mr.  Fricker, 
the  price  fell  and  fell.  Fricker,  however,  professed  him- 
self sanguine.  He  bought  a  few  more;  then  he  sold 
a  few  for  Trix  Trevalla ;  then  he  bought  for  her  a  few 
Glowing  Stars,  knowing  that  his  friendly  note  would 
gain  him  a  free  hand  in  his  dealings.  But  his  smile 
had  been  rather  mysterious  as  he  booked  his  purchases, 
and  also  while  he  wrote  the  note ;  and — 

"It's  all  right,  my  dear,"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Fricker, 
in  reply  to  certain  observations  which  she  made. 
"Leave  it  to  me,  my  dear,  and  wait  a  bit." 

He  had  not  washed  his  hands  of  Trix  Trevalla; 
and  Beaufort  Chance  was  ready  to  let  him  work  his 
will.  As  a  pure  matter  of  business  Mr.  Fricker  had 
found  that  it  did  not  pay  to  be  forgiving;  naturally 
he  had  discarded  the  practice. 


"  A  VERY  KINDLY   NOTE  TO  MR.   FRICKER  " 


VIII 

USURPERS  ON  THE  THRONE 

A  KEY  NEWTON  was  dressing  for  dinner,  for  that 
party  of  his  which  Tommy  Trent  had  brought 
about,  and  which  was  causing  endless  excitement 
in  the  small  circle.  He  arrayed  himself  slowly  and 
ruefully,  choosing  with  care  his  least -frayed  shirt, 
glancing  ever  and  again  at  a  parcel  of  five-pound 
notes  which  lay  on  the  table  in  front  of  him.  There 
were  more  notes  than  the  dinner  would  demand,  how- 
ever lavish  in  his  orders  Tommy  might  have  been; 
Airey  had  determined  to  run  no  risks.  He  was  trying 
hard  to  persuade  himself  that  he  was  going  to  have 
a  pleasant  evening,  and  to  enjoy  dispensing  to  his 
friends  a  sumptuous  hospitality.  The  task  was  a  diffi- 
cult one.  He  could  not  help  thinking  that  those  notes 
were  not  made  to  perish ;  they  were  created  in  order 
that  they  might  live  and  breed;  he  hated  to  fritter 
them  away.  Yet  he  hated  himself  for  hating  it. 

To  this  pass  he  had  come  gradually.  First  the 
money,  which  began  to  roll  in  as  his  work  prospered 
and  his  reputation  grew,  had  been  precious  as  an 
evidence  of  success  and  a  testimony  of  power.  He 
really  wanted  it  for  nothing  else;  his  tastes  had  al- 
ways been  simple,  he  had  no  expensive  recreations; 
nobody  (as  he  told  Tommy  Trent)  had  any  claim  on 
him;  he  was  alone  in  the  world  (except  for  the  rest 
of  mankind,  of  course).  He  saved  his  money,  and  in 

101 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

that  seemed  to  be  doing  the  right  and  reasonable  thing. 
When  the  change  began  or  how  it  worked  he  could 
not  now  trace.  Gradually  his  living  had  become 
more  simple,  and  passed  from  simple  to  sparing ;  every- 
thing that  threatened  expense  was  nipped  in  the  bud. 
It  began  to  be  painful  to  spend  money,  sweet  only 
to  make  it,  to  invest  it,  and  to  watch  its  doings.  By 
an  effort  of  will  he  forced  himself  to  subscribe  with 
decent  liberality  to  a  fair  number  of  public  institutions 
— his  bankers  paid  the  subscriptions  for  him.  Nor 
did  he  fail  if  a  direct  appeal  was  made  for  an  urgent 
case;  then  he  would  give,  though  not  cheerfully.  He 
could  not  be  called  a  miser,  but  he  had  let  money  get 
altogether  out  of  its  proper  place  in  life.  It  had  be- 
come to  him  an  end,  and  was  no  longer  a  means ;  even 
while  he  worked  he  thought  of  how  much  the  work 
would  bring.  He  thought  more  about  money  than 
about  anything  else  in  the  world;  and  he  could  not 
endure  to  waste  it.  By  wasting  it  he  meant  making 
his  own  and  other  people's  lives  pleasanter  by  the  use 
of  it. 

Nobody  knew,  save  Tommy  Trent.  People  who  did 
business  with  him  might  conjecture  that  Airey  New- 
ton must  be  doing  pretty  well ;  but  such  folk  were  not 
of  his  life,  and  what  they  guessed  signified  nothing. 
Of  his  few  friends  none  suspected,  least  of  all  Peggy 
Ryle,  who  came  and  ate  his  bread-and-butter,  be- 
lieving that  she  was  demanding  and  receiving  from 
a  poor  comrade  the  utmost  stretch  of  an  unreserved 
hospitality.  He  suffered  to  see  her  mistake,  yet  not 
without  consolation.  There  was  a  secret  triumph;  he 
felt  and  hated  it.  That  had  been  his  feeling  when 
he  asked  Tommy  Trent  how  he  could  continue  to  be 
his  friend.  He  began  to  live  in  an  alternation  of  de- 
light and  shame,  of  joy  in  having  his  money,  of  fear 

102 


USURPERS    ON    THE    THRONE 

lest  somebody  should  discover  that  he  had  it.  Yet 
he  did  not  hate  Tommy  Trent,  who  knew.  He  might 
well  have  hated  Tommy  in  his  heart.  This  again 
was  peculiar  in  his  own  eyes,  and  perhaps  in  fact. 
And  his  friends  loved  him — not  without  cause  either; 
he  would  have  given  them  anything  except  what  to 
another  would  have  been  easiest  to  give;  he  would 
give  them  even  time,  for  that  was  only  money  still 
uncoined.  Coin  was  the  great  usurper. 

The  dinner  was  a  splendid  affair.  Airey  had  left 
all  the  ordering  to  Tommy  Trent,  and  Tommy  had 
been  imperial.  There  were  flowers  without  stint  on 
the  table ;  there  were  bouquets  and  button-holes ;  there 
was  a  gorgeously  emblazoned  bill  of  fare;  there  were 
blocks  of  ice  specially  carved  in  fantastic  forms ;  there 
were  hand-painted  cards  with  the  names  of  the  guests 
curiously  wrought  thereon.  Airey  furtively  fingered 
his  packet  of  bank-notes,  but  he  could  not  help  being 
rather  pleased  when  Tommy  patted  him  on  the  back 
and  said  that  it  all  looked  splendid.  It  did  look  splen- 
did. Airey  stroked  his  beard  with  a  curious  smile. 
He  actually  felt  now  as  though  he  might  enjoy  him- 
self. 

The  guests  began  to  arrive  punctually.  Efforts  in 
raiment  had  evidently  been  made.  Mrs.  John  was 
in  red — quite  magnificent.  Elfreda  had  a  lace  frock, 
on  the  subject  of  which  she  could  not  be  reduced 
to  silence.  Miles  Childwick  wore  a  white  waistcoat 
with  pearl  buttons,  and  tried  to  give  the  impression 
that  wearing  it  was  an  ordinary  occurrence.  They 
were  all  doing  their  best  to  honor  the  occasion  and 
the  host.  A  pang  shot  through  Airey  Newton;  he 
might  have  done  this  for  them  so  often! 

Trix  came  in  splendor.  She  was  very  radiant, 
feeling  sure  that  her  troubles  were  at  an  end,  and  her 

103 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

sins  forgiven  in  the  popular  and  practical  sense  that 
she  would  suffer  no  more  inconvenience  from  them. 
Had  not  Beaufort  Chance  raved  his  worst?  and  was 
not  Fricker — well,  at  heart — a  gentleman?  asked  she 
with  a  smile.  There  was  more.  Triumph  was  im- 
pending ;  nay,  it  was  won ;  it  waited  only  to  be  declared. 
She  smiled  again  to  think  that  she  was  going  to  dine 
with  these  dear  people  on  the  eve  of  her  greatness. 
How  little  they  knew !  In  this  moment  it  is  to  be  feared 
that  Trix  was  something  of  a  snob.  She  made  what 
amends  she  could  by  feeling  also  that  she  was  glad 
to  have  an  evening  with  them  before  her  greatness 
settled  on  her. 

Peggy  was  late;  this  was  nothing  unusual,  but  the 
delay  seemed  long  to  Tommy  Trent,  who  awaited 
with  apprehension  her  attitude  towards  the  lavish- 
ness  of  the  banquet.  Would  she  walk  out  again? 
He  glanced  at  Airey.  Airey  appeared  commendably 
easy  in  his  mind,  and  was  talking  to  Trix  Trevalla 
with  reassuring  animation. 

"Here  she  comes!"  cried  Horace  Harnack. 

"She's  got  a  new  frock,  too,"  murmured  Elfreda,  re- 
garding her  own  complacently,  and  threatening  to  re- 
new the  subject  on  the  least  provocation. 

Peggy  had  a  new  frock.  And  it  was  black — plain 
black,  quite  unrelieved.  Now  she  never  wore  black, 
not  because  it  was  unbecoming,  but  just  for  a  fad. 
A  new  black  frock  must  surely  portend  something. 
Peggy's  manner  enforced  that  impression.  She  did, 
indeed,  give  one  scandalized  cry  of  "Airey!"  when 
she  saw  the  preparations,  but  evidently  her  mind  was 
seriously  preoccupied;  she  said  she  had  been  detained 
by  business. 

"Frock  hadn't  come  home,  I  suppose?"  suggested 
Miles  Childwick,  witheringly. 

104 


USURPERS    ON    THE    THRONE 

"It  hadn't/'  Peggy  admitted,  "but  I  had  most  im- 
portant letters  to  write,  too."  She  paused,  and  then 
added,  "  I  don't  suppose  1  ought  to  be  here  at  all,  but 
I  had  to  come  to  Airey's  party.  My  uncle  in  Berlin 
is  dead." 

She  said  this  just  as  they  sat  down.  It  produced 
almost  complete  silence.  Trix,  indeed,  with  the  habits 
of  society,  murmured  condolence,  while  she  thought 
that  Peggy  might  either  have  stayed  away  or  have 
said  nothing  about  the  uncle.  Nobody  else  spoke; 
they  knew  that  Peggy  had  not  seen  the  uncle  for  years, 
and  could  not  be  supposed  to  be  suffering  violent  per- 
sonal grief.  But  they  knew  also  the  significance 
of  the  uncle ;  he  had  been  a  real,  though  distant,  power 
to  them ;  the  checks  had  come  from  him.  Now  he  had 
died. 

Their  glances  suggested  to  one  another  that  some- 
body might  put  a  question — somebody  who  had  tact, 
and  could  wrap  it  up  in  a  decorous  shape.  Peggy 
herself  offered  no  more  information,  but  sat  down  by 
Tommy  and  began  on  her  soup. 

Conversation,  reviving  after  the  shock  that  Peggy 
had  administered,  presently  broke  out  again.  Under 
cover  of  it  Peggy  turned  to  Tommy  and  asked,  in  a 
carefully  subdued  whisper: 

"How  much  is  a  mark?" 

"A  mark?"  repeated  Tommy,  who  was  tasting  the 
champagne  critically. 

"Yes.     German  money,  you  know." 

"Oh,  about  a  shilling." 

"A  shilling?"  Peggy  pondered.  "I  thought  it 
was  a  franc?" 

"No,  more  than  that.     About  a  shilling." 

Peggy  gave  a  sudden  little  laugh,  and  her  eyes 
danced  gleefully. 

105 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"You  mustn't  look  like  that.  It's  not  allowed," 
said  Tommy,  firmly. 

"  Then  twenty  thousand  marks — "  whispered  Peggy. 

"Would  be  twenty  thousand  shillings — or  twenty- 
five  thousand  francs — or,  in  the  depreciated  condition 
of  Italian  silver,  some  twenty-seven  thousand  lire. 
It  would  also  be  five  thousand  dollars,  more  cowry 
shells  than  I  can  easily  reckon,  and,  finally,  it  would 
amount  to  one  thousand  pounds  sterling  of  this  realm, 
or  thereabouts." 

Peggy  laughed  again. 

"I'm  sorry  your  uncle's  dead,"  pursued  Tommy, 
gravely. 

"  Oh,  so  am  I !  He  was  always  disagreeable,  but  he 
was  kind  too.  I'm  really  sorry.  Oh,  but,  Tommy — " 

The  effort  was  thoroughly  well  meant,  but  sorrow 
had  not  much  of  a  chance.  Peggy's  sincerity  was 
altogether  too  strong  and  natural.  She  was  over- 
whelmed by  the  extraordinary  effect  of  the  uncle's 
death. 

"He's  left  me  twenty  thousand  marks,"  she  gasped 
out  at  last.  "Don't  tell  anybody — not  yet/' 

"Well  done  him,"  said  Tommy  Trent.  "1  knew 
he  was  a  good  sort — from  those  checks,  you  know." 

"A  thousand  pounds!"  mused  Peggy  Ryle.  She 
looked  down  at  her  garment.  "So  I  got  a  frock  for 
him,  you  see,"  she  explained.  "I  wish  this  was  my 
dinner,"  she  added.  Apparently  the  dinner  might 
have  served  as  a  mark  of  respect  as  well  as  the  frock. 

"Look  here,"  said  Tommy.  "You've  got  to  give 
me  that  money,  you  know." 

Peggy  turned  astonished  and  outraged  eyes  on 
him. 

"I'll  invest  it  for  you,  and  get  you  forty  or  fifty 
pounds  a  year  for  it — regular — quarterly." 

106 


USURPERS   ON    THE    THRONE 

"I'm  going  to  spend  it,"  Peggy  announced  deci- 
sively. "There  are  a  thousand  things  I  want  to  do 
with  it.  It  is  good  of  uncle!" 

"No,  no!  You  give  it  to  me.  You  must  learn 
to  value  money." 

"To  value  money!  Why  must  I?  None  of  us  do." 
She  looked  round  the  table.  "Certainly  we've  none 
of  us  got  any." 

"  It  would  be  much  better  if  they  did  value  it/'  said 
Tommy,  with  a  politico-economical  air. 

"You  say  that  when  you've  made  poor  Airey  give 
us  this  dinner!"  she  cried,  triumphantly. 

With  a  wry  smile  Tommy  Trent  gave  up  the  ar- 
gument; he  had  no  answer  to  that.  Yet  he  was  a 
little  vexed.  He  was  a  normal  man  about  money; 
his  two  greatest  friends — Peggy  and  Airey  Newton- 
were  at  the  extreme  in  different  directions.  What 
did  that  signify?  Well,  after  all,  something.  The 
attitude  people  hold  towards  money  is,  in  one  way 
and  another,  a  curiously  far-reaching  thing,  both  in 
its  expression  of  them  and  in  its  effect  on  others.  Just 
as  there  was  always  an  awkwardness  between  Tommy 
and  Airey  Newton  because  Airey  would  not  spend  as 
much  as  he  ought,  there  was  now  a  hint  of  tension, 
of  disapproval  on  one  side  and  of  defiance  on  the 
other,  because  Peggy  meant  to  spend  all  that  she  had. 
There  is  no  safety  even  in  having  nothing ;  the  prob- 
lems you  escape  for  yourself  you  raise  for  your 
friends. 

Peggy,  having  sworn  Tommy  to  secrecy,  turned 
her  head  round,  saw  Arty  Kane,  could  by  no  means 
resist  the  temptation,  told  him  the  news,  and  swore 
him  to  secrecy.  He  gave  his  word,  and  remarked 
across  the  table  to  Miles  Child  wick:  "Peggy's  been 
left  a  thousand  pounds." 

107 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Then  he  turned  to  her,  saying,  "  I  take  it  all  on  my- 
self. It  was  really  the  shortest  way,  you  know/' 

Indescribable  commotion  followed.  Everybody  had 
a  plan  for  spending  the  thousand  pounds ;  each  of  them 
appropriated  and  spent  it  on  the  spot;  all  agreed  that 
Peggy  was  the  wrong  person  to  have  it,  and  that  they 
were  immensely  glad  that  she  had  got  it.  Sugges- 
tions poured  in  on  her.  It  may  be  doubted  whether 
the  deceased  uncle  had  ever  created  so  much  excite- 
ment while  he  lived. 

"I  propose  to  do  no  work  for  weeks,"  said  Miles 
Childwick.  "I  shall  just  come  and  dine." 

"  I  think  of  an  Edition  de  luxe,"  murmured  Arty  Kane. 

"I  shall  take  nothing  but  leading  business,"  said 
Horace  Harnack. 

"  We  shall  really  have  to  make  a  great  effort  to  avoid 
being  maintained,"  murmured  Mrs.  John,  surprised 
into  a  remark  that  sounded  almost  as  though  it  came 
from  her  books. 

Trix  Trevalla  had  listened  to  all  the  chatter  with  a 
renewal  of  her  previous  pleasure,  enjoying  it  yet  the 
more  because,  thanks  to  Pricker's  gentlemanly  con- 
duct, to  the  worst  of  Beaufort  Chance  being  over,  and 
to  her  imminent  triumph,  her  soul  was  at  peace  and 
her  attention  not  preoccupied.  She,  too,  found  herself 
rejoicing  very  heartily  for  Peggy's  sake.  She  knew 
what  pleasure  Peggy  would  get,  what  a  royal  time 
lay  before  her. 

"She'll  spend  it  all.  How  will  she  feel  when  it's 
finished?" 

The  question  came  from  Airey  Newton,  her  neigh- 
bor. There  was  no  touch  of  malice  about  it;  it  was 
put  in  a  full-hearted  sympathy. 

"What  a  funny  way  to  look  at  it!"  exclaimed  Trix, 
laughing. 

108 


USURPERS    ON    THE    THRONE 

"Funny!  Why?  You  know  she'll  spend  it.  Oh, 
perhaps  you  don't;  we  do.  And  when  it's  gone — " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders;  her  last  state  would 
be  worse  than  her  first,  he  meant  to  say. 

Trix  stopped  laughing.  She  was  touched;  it  was 
pathetic  to  see  how  the  man  who  worked  for  a  pittance 
felt  a  sort  of  pain  at  the  idea  of  squandering — an  un- 
selfish pain  for  the  girl  who  would  choose  a  brief  ecstasy 
of  extravagance  when  she  might  insure  a  permanent 
increase  of  comfort.  She  could  not  herself  feel  like 
that  about  such  a  trifle  as  a  thousand  pounds  (in  all 
she  was  wearing  about  a  thousand  pounds,  and  that 
not  in  full  fig.),  but  she  saw  how  the  case  must  appear 
to  Airey  Newton;  the  windfall  that  had  tumbled  into 
Peggy's  lap  meant  years  of  hard  work  and  of  self- 
respecting  economy  to  him. 

"Yes,  you're  right,"  she  said.  "But  she's  too 
young  for  the  lesson.  And  I — well,  I'm  afraid  I'm  in- 
curable. You  don't  set  us  the  best  example  either/' 
She  smiled  again  as  she  indicated  the  luxurious  table. 

"A  very  occasional  extravagance,"  he  remarked, 
seeing  her  misapprehension  quite  clearly,  impelled  to 
confirm  it  by  his  unresting  fear  of  discovery,  fingering 
the  packet  of  five-pound  notes  in  his  pocket. 

"I  wish  somebody  could  teach  me  to  be  prudent," 
smiled  Trix. 

"  Can  one  be  taught  to  be  different?"  he  asked,  rather 
gloomily. 

"Money  doesn't  really  make  one  happy,"  said  Trix, 
in  the  tone  of  a  disillusionized  millionaire. 

"  I  suppose  not,"  he  agreed,  but  with  all  the  scepticism 
of  a  hopeless  pauper. 

They  both  acted  their  parts  well;  each  successfully 
imposed  on  the  other.  But  pretence  on  this  one  point 
did  not  hinder  a  genuine  sympathy  nor  a  reciprocal 

109 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

attraction  between  them.  He  seemed  to  her  the  haven 
that  she  might  have  loved,  yet  had  always  scorned; 
she  was  to  him  the  type  of  that  moving,  many-colored, 
gay  life  which  his  allegiance  to  his  jealous  god  forbade 
him  to  follow  or  to  know.  And  they  were  united  again 
by  a  sense  common  to  them,  apart  from  the  rest  of 
the  company — the  sense  of  dissatisfaction;  it  was  a 
subtle  bond  ever  felt  between  them,  and  made  them 
turn  to  one  another  with  smiles  half  scornful,  half 
envious,  when  the  merriment  rose  high.  ' 

"I'm  glad  to  meet  you  to-night,"  she  said,  "because 
I  think  I  can  tell  you  that  your  advice — your  Paris 
advice — has  been  a  success." 

"You  seemed  rather  doubtful  about  that  when  we 
met  last." 

"Yes,  I  was."  She  laughed  a  little.  "Oh,  I've 
had  some  troubles,  but  I  think  I'm  in  smooth  water 
now."  She  hardly  repressed  the  ring  of  triumph  in 
her  voice. 

"Ah,  then  you  won't  come  again  to  Danes  Inn!" 

There  was  an  unmistakable  regret  in  his  voice. 
Trix  felt  it  echoed  in  her  heart.  She  met  his  glance 
for  a  moment;  the  contact  might  have  lasted  longer, 
but  he,  less  practised  in  such  encounters,  turned  hastily 
away.  Enough  had  passed  to  tell  her  that  if  she  did 
not  come  she  would  be  missed,  enough  to  make  her 
feel  that  in  not  going  she  would  lose  something  which 
she  had  come  to  think  of  as  pleasant  in  life.  Was 
there  always  a  price  to  be  paid?  Great  or  small  per- 
haps, but  a  price  always? 

"You  should  come  sometimes  where  you  can  be 
seen,"  she  said,  lightly. 

"A  pretty  figure  I  should  cut!"  was  his  good-humor- 
ed, rather  despairing  comment. 

Trix  was  surprised  by  a  feeling  stronger  than  she 

no 


USURPERS    ON    THE    THRONE 

could  have  anticipated;  she  desired  to  escape  from 
it ;  it  seemed  as  though  Airey  Newton  and  his  friends 
were  laying  too  forcible  a  hold  on  her.  They  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  life  that  was  to  be  hers;  they 
were  utterly  outside  that,  though  they  might  help 
her  to  laugh  away  an  evening  or  amuse  her  with  their 
comments  on  human  nature  and  its  phases.  To  her 
his  friends  and  he  were  essentially  a  distraction;  they 
and  he  must  be  kept  in  the  place  appropriate  to  dis- 
tractions. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  table  an  elementary  form 
of  joke  was  achieving  a  great  success.  It  lay  in  credit- 
ing Peggy  with  unmeasured  wealth,  in  assigning  her 
quarters  in  the  most  fashionable  part  of  the  town,  in 
marrying  her  to  the  highest  bigwig  whose  title  occur- 
red to  any  one  of  the  company.  She  was  passed  from 
Park  Lane  to  Grosvenor  Square  and  assigned  every 
rank  in  the  peerage.  Schemes  of  benevolence  were 
proposed  to  her,  having  for  their  object  the  endowment 
of  literature  and  art. 

"  You  will  not  .continue  the  exercise  of  your  pro- 
fession, I  presume?"  asked  Childwick,  referring  to 
Peggy's  projected  lessons  in  the  art  of  painting  and 
a  promise  to  buy  her  works  which  she  had  wrung 
from  a  dealer  notoriously  devoted  to  her. 

"She  won't  know  us  any  more,"  moaned  Arty  Kane. 

"She'll  glare  at  us  from  boxes — boxes  paid  for," 
sighed  Harnack. 

"  I  shall  never  lose  any  more  frocks,"  said  Elfreda, 
with  affected  ruefulness. 

Trix  smiled  at  all  this — a  trifle  sadly.  What  was 
attributed  in  burlesque  to  the  newly  enriched  Peggy 
was  really  going  to  be  almost  true  of  herself.  Well, 
she  had  never  belonged  to  them ;  she  had  been  a  visitor 
always. 

Ill 


THE  INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

The  most  terrible  suggestion  came  from  Mrs.  John 
— rather  late,  of  course,  and  as  if  Mrs.  John  had  taken 
some  pains  with  it. 

"Shell  have  her  hair  done  quite  differently." 

The  idea  produced  pandemonium. 

"What  of  my  essay?"  demanded  Childwick. 

"What  of  my  poem?"  cried  Arty  Kane. 

Everybody  agreed  that  a  stand  must  be  made  here. 
A  formal  pledge  was  demanded  from  Peggy.  When 
she  gave  it  her  health  was  drunk  with  acclamation. 

A  lull  came  with  the  arrival  of  coffee.  Perhaps 
they  were  exhausted.  At  any  rate,  when  Miles  Child- 
wick  began  to  talk  they  did  not  stop  him  at  once  as 
their  custom  was,  but  let  him  go  on  for  a  little  while. 
He  was  a  thin-faced  man  with  a  rather  sharp  nose, 
prematurely  bald,  and  bowed  about  the  shoulders. 
Trix  Trevalla  watched  him  with  some  interest. 

"If  there  were  such  a  thing  as  being  poor  and  un- 
successful," he  remarked,  with  something  that  was 
almost  a  wink  in  his  eye  (Trix  took  it  to  deprecate  in- 
terruption), ".it  would  probably  be. very  unpleasant. 
Of  course,  however,  it  does  not  exist.  The  impression 
to  the  contrary  is  an  instance  of  what  I  will  call  the 
fallacy  of  broad  views.  We  are  always  taking  broad 
views  of  our  neighbors'  lives ;  then  we  call  them  names. 
Happily  we  very  seldom  need  to  take  them  of  our  own." 
He  paused,  looked  round  the  silent  table,  and  observed 
gravely,  "This  is  very  unusual." 

Only  a  laugh  from  Peggy,  who  would  have  laughed 
at  anything,  broke  the  stillness.  He  resumed: 

"You  call  a  man  poor,  meaning  thereby  that  he 
has  little  money  by  the  year.  Ladies  and  gentle- 
men, we  do  not  feel  in  years,  we  are  not  hungry  per 
annum.  You  call  him  unsuccessful  because  a  num- 
ber of  years  leave  him  much  where  he  was  in  most 

112 


USURPERS    ON    THE    THRONE 

things.  It  may  well  be  a  triumph!"  He  paused 
and  asked,  "Shall  I  proceed?" 

"If  you  have  another  and  quite  different  idea/' 
said  Arty  Kane. 

"Well  then,  that  homogeneity  of  fortune  is  unde- 
sirable among  friends." 

"Trite  and  obvious,"  said  Manson  Smith.  "It  ex- 
cludes the  opportunity  of  lending  fivers." 

"I  shall  talk  no  more,"  said  Childwick.  "If  we 
all  spoke  plain  English  originality  would  become 
impossible." 

The  end  of  the  evening  came  earlier  than  usual. 
Peggy  was  going  to  a  party  or  two.  She  had  her 
hansom  waiting  to  convey  her.  It  had,  it  appeared, 
been  waiting  all  through  dinner.  With  her  departure 
the  rest  melted  away.  Trix  Trevalla,  again  reluctant 
to  go,  at  last  found  herself  alone  with  Airey  Newton, 
Tommy  having  gone  out  to  look  for  her  carriage. 
The  waiter  brought  the  bill  and  laid  it  down  beside 
Airey. 

"Is  it  good  luck  or  bad  luck  for  Peggy?"  she  asked, 
reflectively. 

"For  Peggy  it  is  good  luck;  she  has  instincts  that 
save  her.  But  she'll  be  very  poor  again."  He  came 
back  to  that  idea  persistently. 

"She'll  marry  somebody  and  be  rich."  A  sudden 
thought  came  and  made  her  ask  Airey,  "Would  you 
marry  for  money?" 

He  thought  long,  taking  no  notice  of  the  bill  beside 
him.  "No,"  he  said  at  last,  "I  shouldn't  care  about 
money  I  hadn't  made." 

"A  funny  reason  for  the  orthodox  conclusion!" 
she  laughed.  "What  does  it  matter  who  made  it  as 
long  as  you  have  it?" 

Airey  shook  his  head  in  an  obstinate  way.  Tommy 
s  113 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Trent,  just  entering  the  doorway,  saw  him  lay  down 
three  or  four  notes;  he  did  not  look  at  the  bill.  The 
waiter,  with  a  smile,  gave  him  back  one,  saying,  "  Par- 
don, monsieur  \"  and  pointing  to  the  amount  of  the  ac- 
count. Tommy  stood  where  he  was,  looking  on  still. 

"Well,  I  must  go,"  said  Trix,  rising.  "You've 
given  us  a  great  deal  of  pleasure;  I  hope  you've  en- 
joyed it  yourself!" 

The  waiter  brought  back  the  bill  and  the  change. 
Airey  scooped  up  the  change  carelessly  and  gave 
back  a  sovereign.  Tommy  could  not  see  the  coin, 
but  he  saw  the  waiter's  low  and  cordial  bow.  He 
was  smiling  broadly  as  he  came  up  to  Airey. 

"Business  done,  old  fellow?  We  must  see  Mrs. 
Tre valla  into  her  carriage." 

"Good-bye  to  you  both,"  said  Trix.  "Such  an 
evening!"  Her  eyes  were  bright;  she  seemed  rather 
moved.  There  was  in  Tommy's  opinion  nothing  to 
account  for  any  emotion,  but  Airey  Newton  was  watch- 
ing her  with  a  puzzled  air. 

"And  I  shall  remember  that  there's  no  such  thing 
as  being  poor  or  unsuccessful,"  she  laughed.  "  We 
must  thank  Mr.  Child  wick  for  that." 

"  There's  nothing  of  that  sort  for  you,  anyhow,  Mrs. 
Trevalla,"  said  Tommy.  He  offered  his  arm,  but  with- 
drew it  again,  smiling.  "I  forgot  the  host's  privi- 
leges," he  said. 

He  followed  them  down-stairs,  and  saw  Airey  put 
Trix  in  her  carriage. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  called,  wistfully,  as  she  was  driven 
away. 

"Shall  we  stroll?"  asked  Tommy.  The  night  was 
fine  this  time. 

They  walked  along  in  silence  for  some  little  way. 
Then  Airey  said: 

114 


USURPERS    ON    THE    THRONE 

"Thank  you,  Tommy." 

"It  was  no  trouble/'  said  Tommy,  generously, 
"and  you  did  it  really  well." 

It  was  no  use.  Airey  had  struggled  with  the  secret : 
he  had  determined  not  to  tell  anybody — not  to  think 
of  it  or  to  take  account  of  it  even  within  himself.  But 
it  would  out. 

"It's  all  right.  I  happened  to  get  a  little  payment 
to  day — one  that  I'd  quite  given  up  hope  of  ever  see- 
ing." 

"How  lucky,  old  chap!"  Tommy  was  content  to  say. 

It  was  evident  that  progress  would  be  gradual. 
Airey  was  comforting  himself  with  the  idea  that  he 
had  given  his  dinner  without  encroaching  on  his  hoard. 

Yet  something  had  been  done — more  than  Tommy 
knew  of,  more  than  he  could  fairly  have  taken  credit 
for.  When  Airey  reached  Danes  Inn  he  found  it 
solitary  and  he  found  it  mean.  His  safe  and  his  red 
book  were  not  able  to  comfort  him.  No  thought  of 
change  came  to  him;  he  was  far  from  that.  He  did 
not  even  challenge  his  mode  of  life  or  quarrel  with 
the  motive  that  inspired  it.  The  usurper  was  still  on 
the  throne  in  his  heart,  even  as  Trix's  usurper  sat 
still  enthroned  in  hers.  Airey  got  no  further  than 
to  be  sorry  that  the  motive  and  the  mode  of  life  neces- 
sitated certain  things  and  excluded  others.  He  was 
not  so  deeply  affected  but  that  he  put  these  repinings 
from  him  with  a  strong  hand.  Yet  they  recurred 
obstinately,  and  pictures,  long  foreign  to  him,  rose 
before  his  eyes.  He  had  a  vision  of  a  great  joy  bought 
at  an  enormous  price,  purchased  with  a  pang  that 
he  at  once  declared  would  be  unendurable.  But  the 
vision  was  there,  and  seemed  bright. 

"What  a  comforting  thing  impossibility  is  some- 
times!" His  reflections  took  that  form  as  he  smoked 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

his  last  pipe.  If  all  things  were  possible,  what  struggles 
there  would  be!  He  could  never  be  called  upon  to 
choose  between  the  vision  and  the  pang.  That  would 
be  spared  him  by  the  blessing  of  impossibility. 

Rare  as  the  act  was,  it  could  hardly  be  the  giving 
of  a  dinner  which  had  roused  these  new  and  strange 
thoughts  in  him.  The  vision  borrowed  form  and  col- 
or from  the  commonest  mother  of  visions — a  woman's 
face. 

Two  or  three  days  later  Peggy  Ryle  brought  him 
seven  hundred  pounds — because  he  had  a  safe.  He 
said  the  money  would  be  all  right,  and,  when  she  had 
gone,  stowed  it  away  in  the  appointed  receptacle. 

"I  keep  my  own  there,"  he  had  explained,  with  an 
ironical  smile,  and  had  watched  Peggy's  carefully 
grave  nod  with  an  inward  groan. 


IX 

BRUISES  AND  BALM 

GOSSIP  in  clubs  and  whispers  from  more  secret 
circles  had  a  way  of  reaching  Mrs.  Bonfill's  ears. 
In  the  days  that  followed  Mr.  Liffey's  public  inquiry 
as  to  who  Brown,  Jones,  and  Robinson  might  be, 
care  sat  on  her  broad  brow,  and  she  received  several 
important  visitors.  She  was  much  troubled;  it  was 
the  first  time  that  there  had  been  any  unpleasantness 
with  regard  to  one  of  her  proteges.  She  felt  it  a  slur 
on  herself,  and  at  first  there  was  a  hostility  in  her 
manner  when  Lord  Glentorly  spoke  to  her  solemnly 
and  Constantine  Blair  came  to  see  her  in  a  great  nutter. 
But  she  was  open  to  reason,  a  woman  who  would  listen ; 
she  listened  to  them.  Glentorly  said  that  only  his 
regard  for  her  made  him  anxious  to  manage  things 
quietly;  Blair  insisted  more  on  the  desirability  of 
preventing  anything  like  a  scandal  in  the  interests 
of  the  government.  There  were  rumors  of  a  question 
in  the  House;  Mr.  Liffey's  next  article  might  even 
now  be  going  to  press.  As  to  the  fact  there  was  little 
doubt,  though  the  details  were  rather  obscure. 

"  We  are  willing  to  leave  him  a  bridge  to  retreat  by, 
but  retreat  he  must,"  said  Glentorly,  in  a  metaphor 
appropriate  to  his  office. 

"You're  the  only  person  who  can  approach  both 
Liffey  and  Chance  himself,"  Constantine  Blair  rep- 
resented to  her. 

117 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"Does  it  mean  his  seat  as  well  as  his  place?"  she 
asked. 

"If  it's  all  kept  quite  quiet,  we  think  nothing  need 
be  said  about  his  seat,"  Blair  told  her. 

There  had  been  a  difference  of  opinion  on  that  ques- 
tion, but  the  less  stringent  moralists — or  the  more 
compassionate  men — had  carried  their  point. 

"But  once  there's  a  question,  or  an  exposure  by 
Liffey — piff!"  Blair  blew  Beaufort  Chance  to  the  re- 
lentless winds  of  heaven  and  the  popular  press. 

"How  did  he  come  to  be  so  foolish?"  asked  Mrs. 
Bonfill,  in  useless,  regretful  wondering. 

"You'll  see  Liffey?  Nobody  else  can  do  anything 
with  him,  of  course." 

Mrs.  Bonfill  was  an  old  friend  of  Liffey's;  before 
she  became  motherly,  when  Liffey  was  a  young  man 
and  just  establishing  the  Sentinel,  he  had  been  an 
admirer  of  hers,  and,  in  that  blameless  fashion  about 
which  Lady  Blixworth  was  so  flippant,  she  had  re- 
ciprocated his  liking;  he  was  a  pleasant,  witty  man, 
and  they  had  always  stretched  out  friendly  hands 
across  the  gulf  of  political  difference  and  social  diver- 
gence. Liffey  might  do  for  Mrs.  Bonfill  what  he  would 
not  for  all  the  Estates  of  the  Realm  put  together. 

"  I  don't  know  how  much  you  know  or  mean  to  say," 
she  began  to  Liffey,  after  cordial  greetings. 

"  I  know  most  of  what  there  is  to  know,  and  I  intend 
to  say  it  all,"  was  his  reply. 

"How  did  you  find  out?" 

"From  Brown,  a  gentleman  who  lives  atClapham, 
and  whose  other  name  is  Clarkson.  Pricker's  weak 
spot  is  that  he's  a  screw ;  he  never  lets  the  subordinates 
stand  in  enough.  So  he  gets  given  away.  I  pointed 
that  out  to  him  over  the  Swallow  Islands  business, 
but  he  won't  learn  from  me."  Mr.  Liffey  spoke  like 

118 


BRUISES    AND    BALM 

an  unappreciated  philanthropist.  The  Swallow  Isl- 
ands affair  had  been  what  Fricker  called  a  "scoop" 
— a  very  big  thing;  but  there  had  been  some  trouble 
afterwards. 

"Say  all  you  like  about  Fricker — " 

"Oh,  Fricker's  really  neither  here  nor  there.  The 
public  are  such  asses  that  I  can't  seriously  injure 
Fricker,  though  I  can  make  an  article  out  of  him.  But 
the  other — " 

"Don't  mention  any  public  men,"  implored  Mrs. 
Bonfill,  as  though  she  had  the  fair  fame  of  the  country 
much  at  heart. 

"Any  public  men?"  There  was  the  hint  of  a  sneer 
in  Liffey's  voice. 

"I  suppose  we  needn't  mention  names.  He's  not 
a  big  fish,  of  course,  but  still  it  would  be  unpleasant." 

"  I'm  not  here  to  make  things  pleasant  for  Farring- 
ham  and  his  friends." 

"I  speak  as  one  of  your  friends — and  one  of  his." 

"This  isn't  quite  fair,  you  know,"  smiled  Liffey. 
"With  the  article  in  type,  too!" 

"We've  all  been  in  such  a  fidget  about  it." 

"I  know!"  he  nodded.  "Glentorly  like  a  hen  under 
a  cart,  and  Constantine  fussing  in  and  out  like  a 
cuckoo  on  a  clock!  Thank  God  I'm  not  a  politician!" 

"You're  only  a  censor,"  she  smiled,  with  amiable 
irony.  "I'm  making  a  personal  matter  of  it,"  she 
went  on,  with  the  diplomatic  candor  that  had  often 
proved  one  of  her  best  weapons. 

"And  the  public  interest?  The  purity  of  politics? 
Caesar's  wife?"  Liffey,  in  his  turn,  allowed  himself 
an  ironical  smile. 

"He  will  resign  his  place — not  his  seat,  but  his 
place.  Isn't  that  enough?  It's  the  end  of  his  chosen 
career." 

119 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"Have  you  spoken  to  him?" 

"  No.  But  of  course  I  can  make  him.  What  choice 
has  he?  Is  it  true  there's  to  be  a  question?  I  heard 
that  Alured  Cummins  meant  to  ask  one." 

"Between  ourselves,  it's  a  point  that  I  had  hardly 
made  up  my  mind  on." 

"Ah,  I  knew  you  were  behind  it!" 

"It  would  have  been  just  simultaneous  with  my  sec- 
ond article.  Effective,  eh?" 

"Have  you  anything  quite  definite — besides  the 
speculation,  I  mean?" 

"  Yes.  One  clear  case  of — well,  of  Pricker's  knowing 
something  much  too  soon.  I've  got  a  copy  of  a  let- 
ter our  gentleman  wrote.  Clarkson  gave  it  me.  It's 
dated  the  24th,  and  it's  addressed  to  Flicker." 

"Good  gracious!     May  I  tell  him  that?" 

"I  proposed  to  tell  him  myself,"  smiled  Liffey,  "or 
to  let  Cummins  break  the  news." 

"If  he  know.s  that,  he  must  consent  to  go."  She 
glanced  at  Liffey.  "  My  credit's  at  stake  too,  you  see." 
It  cost  her  something  to  say  this. 

"You  went  bail  for  him,  did  you?"  Liffey  was 
friendly,  contemptuous,  and  even  compassionate. 

"  I  thought  well  of  him,  and  said  so  to  George  Glen- 
torly.  I  ask  it  as  a  friend." 

"  As  a  friend  you  must  have  it.  But  make  it  clear. 
He  resigns  in  three  days — or  article,  letter,  and  Alured 
Cummins!" 

"I'll  make  it  clear — and  thank  you,"'  said  Mrs. 
Bonfill.  "I  know  it's  a  sacrifice." 

"I'd  have  had  no  mercy  on  him,"  laughed  Liffey. 
"  As  it  is,  I  must  vamp  up  something  dull  and  innocuous 
to  get  myself  out  of  my  promise  to  the  public." 

"I  think  he'll  be  punished  enough." 

"Perhaps.     But  look  how  I  suffer!" 
120 


BRUISES    AND    BALM 

"There  are  sinners  left,  enough  and  to  spare." 

"So  many  of  them  have  channing  women  for  their 
friends/' 

"Oh,  you  don't  often  yield!" 

"No,  not  often,  but — you  were  an  early  subscriber 
to  the  Sentinel." 

It  would  be  untrue  to  say  that  the  sort  of  negotiation 
on  which  she  was  now  engaged  was  altogether  un- 
pleasant  to  Mrs.  Bonfill.  Let  her  not  be  called  a  busy- 
body ;  but  she  was  a  born  intermediary.  A  gratifying 
sense  of  power  mingled  with  the  natural  pain.  She 
wired  to  Constantine  Blair,  "All  well  if  X.  is  reason- 
able," and  sent  a  line  asking  Beaufort  Chance  to  call. 

Chance  had  got  out  of  Dramoffskys  prosperously. 
His  profit  was  good,  though  not  what  it  had  been  going 
to  reach  but  for  Liffey's  article.  Yet  he  was  content; 
the  article  and  the  whispers  had  frightened  him,  but 
he  hoped  that  he  would  now  be  safe.  He  meant  to 
run  no  more  risks,  to  walk  no  more  so  near  the  line, 
certainly  never  to  cross  it.  A  sinner  who  has  reached 
this  frame  of  mind  generally  persuades  himself  that 
he  can  and  ought  to  escape  punishment;  else  where 
is  the  virtue — or  where,  anyhow,  the  sweetness — that 
we  find  attributed  to  penitence?  And  surely  he  had 
been  ill-used  enough — thanks  to  Trix  Trevalla! 

In  this  mood  he  was  all  unprepared  for  the  blow 
that  his  friend  Mrs.  Bonfill  dealt  him.  He  began 
defiantly.  What  Liffey  threatened,  what  his  colleagues 
suspected,  he  met  by  angry  assertions  of  innocence, 
by  insisting  that  a  plain  statement  would  put  them 
all  down,  by  indignation  that  she  should  believe  such 
things  of  him,  and  make  herself  the  mouthpiece  of 
such  accusations.  In  fine,  he  blustered,  while  she 
sat  in  sad  silence,  waiting  to  produce  her  last  card. 
When  she  said,  "Mr.  Fricker  employed  a  man  named 

121 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Clarkson?"  he  came  to  a  sudden  stop  in  his  striding 
about  the  room;  his  face  turned  red,  he  looked  at  her 
with  a  quick,  furtive  air.  "  Well,  he's  stolen  a  letter 
of  yours." 

"What  letter?"  he  burst  out. 

With  pity  Mrs.  Bonfill  saw  how  easily  his  cloak  of 
unassailable  innocence  fell  away  from  him. 

She  knew  nothing  of  the  letter  save  what  Liffey 
had  told  her. 

"  It's  to  Mr.  Fricker,  and  it's  dated  the  24th/'  said 
she. 

Was  that  enough?  She  watched  his  knitted  brows; 
he  was  recalling  the  letter,  He  wasted  no  time  in 
abusing  the  servant  who  had  betrayed  him;  he  had 
no  preoccupation  except  to  recollect  that  letter.  Mrs. 
Bonfill  drank  her  tea  while  he  stood  motionless  in 
the  middle  of  the  room. 

When  he  spoke  again  his  voice  sounded  rather  hollow 
and  hoarse. 

"Well,  what  do  they  want  of  me?"  he  asked. 

Mrs.  Bonfill  knew  that  she  saw  before  her  a  beaten 
man.  All  pleasure  had  gone  from  her  now ;  the  scene 
was  purely  painful ;  she  had  liked  and  helped  the  man. 
But  she  had  her  message  to  deliver,  even  as  it  had 
come  to  her.  He  must  resign  in  three  days — or  article, 
letter,  and  Alured  Cummins !  That  was  the  alternative 
she  had  to  put  before  him. 

"Yoii've  too  many  irons  in  the  fire,  Beaufort," 
said  she,  with  a  shake  of  her  head  and  a  friendly  smile. 
"One  thing  clashes  with  another." 

He  dropped  into  a  chair  and  sat  looking  before 
him  moodily. 

"There'll  be  plenty  left.  You'll  have  your  seat 
still ;  and  you'll  be  free  to  give  all  your  time  to  business 
and  make  a  career  there." 

122 


BRUISES    AND    BALM 

Still  he  said  nothing.     She  forced  herself  to  go  on. 

"  It  should  be  done  at  once.  We  all  think  so.  Then 
it  '11  have  an  entirely  voluntary  look." 

Still  he  was  mute. 

"It  must  be  done  in  three  days,  Beaufort/'  she  half 
whispered,  leaning  across  towards  him.  "In  three 
days,  or — or  no  arrangement  can  be  made."  She 
waited  a  moment,  then  added:  "Go  and  write  it  this 
afternoon.  And  send  a  little  paragraph  round — about 
pressure  of  private  business,  or  something,  you  know. 
Then  I  should  take  a  rest  somewhere,  if  I  were  you." 

He  was  to  vanish — from  official  life  forever,  from 
the  haunts  of  men  till  men  had  done  talking  about 
him.  Mrs.  Bonfill's  delicacy  of  expression  was  not 
guilty  of  obscuring  her  meaning  in  the  least.  She 
knew  that  her  terms  were  accepted  when  he  took  his 
hat  and  bade  her  farewell  with  a  dreary,  heavy  awk- 
wardness. On  his  departure  she  heaved  a  sigh  of 
complicated  feelings :  satisfaction  that  the  thing  was 
done,  sorrow  that  it  had  to  be,  wonder  at  him,  surprise 
at  her  own  mistake  about  him.  She  had  put  him 
in  his  place;  she  had  once  thought  him  worthy  of  her 
dearest  Trix  Trevalla.  These  latter  reflections  tem- 
pered her  pride  in  the  achievements  of  her  diplomacy 
and  moderated  to  a  self-depreciatory  tone  the  reports 
which  she  proceeded  to  write  to  Mr.  Liffey  and  to  Con- 
stantine  Blair. 

Hard  is  the  case  of  a  man  fallen  into  misfortune 
who  can  find  nobody  but  himself  to  blame;  small,  it 
may  be  added,  is  his  ingenuity.  Beaufort  Chance, 
while  he  wrote  his  bitter  note,  while  he  walked  the 
streets  suspicious  of  the  glances  and  fearful  of  the 
whispers  of  those  he  met,  had  no  difficulty  in  fixing 
on  the  real  culprit,  on  her  to  whom  his  fall  and  all  that 
had  led  to  it  were  due.  He  lost  sight  of  any  fault  of 

123 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

his  own  in  a  contemplation  of  the  enormity  of  Trix 
Trevalla's.  To  cast  her  down  would  be  sweet;  it 
would  still  be  an  incentive  to  exalt  himself  if  thereby 
he  could  make  her  feel  more  unhappy.  If  he  still 
could  grow  rich  and  important  although  his  chosen 
path  was  forbidden  him,  if  she  could  become  poor  and 
despised,  then  he  might  cry  quits.  Behind  this  sim- 
ple malevolence  was  a  feeling  hardly  more  estimable, 
though  it  derived  its  origin  from  better  things;  it  was 
to  him  that  he  wanted  her  to  come  on  her  knees,  begging 
his  forgiveness,  ready  to  be  his  slave  and  to  take  the 
crumbs  he  threw  her. 

These  thoughts,  no  less  than  an  instinctive  desire 
to  go  somewhere  where  he  would  not  be  looked  at 
askance,  where  he  would  still  be  a  great  man  and  still 
be  admired,  took  him  to  the  Prickers'  later  in  the  after- 
noon. A  man  scorned  of  his  fellows  is  said  to  value 
the  society  of  his  dog;  if  Fricker  would  not  have  ac- 
cepted the  parallel,  it  might  in  Chance's  mind  be  well 
applied  to  Pricker's  daughter  Connie.  Lady  Blix- 
worth  had  once  described  this  young  lady  unkindly; 
but  improvements  had  been  undertaken.  She  was 
much  better  dressed  now,  and  her  figure  responded  to 
treatment,  as  the  doctors  say.  Nature  had  given  her 
a  fine  poll  of  dark  hair  and  a  pair  of  large,  black  eyes, 
highly  expressive,  and  never  allowed  to  grow  rusty 
for  want  of  use.  To  her  Beaufort  was  a  great  man; 
his  manners  smacked  of  the  society  which  was  her 
goal;  the  touch  of  vulgarity,  from  which  good  birth 
and  refined  breeding  do  not  always  save  a  man  vulgar 
in  soul,  was  either  unperceived  or,  as  is  perhaps  more 
likely,  considered  the  hall-mark  of  smartness;  others 
than  Connie  Fricker  might  perhaps  be  excused  for 
some  confusion  on  this  point.  Yet  beneath  her  ways 
and  her  notions  Connie  had  a  brain. 

124 


BRUISES    AND    BAXM 

Nobody  except  Miss  Fricker  was  at  home,  Beaufort 
was  told;  but  he  said  he  would  wait  for  Mr.  Fricker, 
and  went  into  the  drawing-room.  The  Frickers  lived 
in  a  fine,  solid,  spacious  house  of  respectable  age. 
Its  walls  remained;  they  had  gutted  the  interior  and 
had  it  refurnished  and  rebedecked;  the  effect  was 
that  of  a  modern  daub  in  a  handsome,  antique  frame. 
It  is  unkind,  but  hardly  untrue,  to  say  that  Connie 
Fricker  did  not  dispel  this  idea  when  she  joined  Beau- 
fort Chance  and  said  that  some  whiskey-and-soda  was 
coming;  she  led  him  into  the  smaller  drawing-room, 
where  smoking  was  allowed;  she  said  that  she  was 
so  glad  that  mamma  was  out. 

"  I  don't  often  get  an  opportunity  of  talking  to  you, 
Mr.  Chance." 

Probably  every  man  likes  a  reception  conceived  in 
this  spirit;  how  fastidious  he  may  be  as  to  the  out- 
ward and  visible  form  which  clothes  the  spirit  depends 
partly  on  his  nature,  probably  more  on  his  mood; 
nobody  is  always  particular,  just  as  nobody  is  always 
wise.  The  dog  is  fond  and  uncritical — let  us  pat  the 
faithful  animal.  Chance  was  much  more  responsive 
in  his  manner  to  Connie  than  he  had  ever  been  before ; 
Connie  mounted  to  heights  of  delight  as  she  ministered 
whiskey-and-soda.  He  let  her  frisk  about  him  and 
lick  his  hand,  and  he  conceived,  by  travelling  through 
a  series  of  contrasts,  a  high  opinion  of  canine  fidelity 
and  admiration.  Something  he  had  read  somewhere 
about  *the  relative  advantage  of  reigning  in  hell  also 
came  into  his  mind,  and  was  dismissed  again  with  a 
smile  as  he  puffed  and  sipped. 

"Seen  anything  of  Mrs.  Trevalla  lately?"  asked 
Connie  Fricker. 

"Not  for  a  week  or  two,"  he  answered,  carelessly. 

"Neither  have  we."     She  added,  after  a  pause,  and 
125 


THE   INTRUSIONS  OF   PEGGY 

with  a  laugh  that  did  not  sound  very  genuine,  "  Mamma 
thinks  she's  dropping  us." 

"  Does  Mrs.  Trevalla  count  much  one  way  or  the  oth- 
er?" he  asked. 

But  Connie  had  her  wits  about  her,  and  saw  no  rea- 
son why  she  should  pretend  to  be  a  fool. 

"I  know  more  about  it  than  you  think,  Mr.  Chance," 
she  assured  him,  with  a  toss  of  her  head,  a  glint  of 
rather  large  white  teeth,  and  a  motion  of  her  full  but 
(as  improved)  not  ungraceful  figure. 

"You  do,  by  Jove,  do  you?"  asked  Beaufort,  half  in 
mockery,  half  in  an  admiration  she  suddenly  wrung 
from  him. 

"Girls  are  supposed  not  to  see  anything,  aren't 
they?" 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  you  see  a  thing  or  two.  Miss  Connie !" 

His  tone  left  nothing  to  be  desired  in  her  eyes.  She 
did  not  know  that  he  had  not  courted  Trix  Trevalla 
like  that,  that  even  his  brutality  towards  her  had  lacked 
the  easy  contempt  of  his  present  manner.  Why  give 
people  other  than  what  they  want,  better  than  they 
desire?  The  frank  approval  of  his  look  left  Connie 
unreservedly  pleased  and  not  a  little  triumphant. 
He  had  been  stand-offish  before;  well,  mamma  had 
never  given  her  a  "show" — that  was  the  word  which 
her  thoughts  employed.  When  she  got  one,  it  was 
not  in  Connie  to  waste  it.  She  leaned  her  elbow  on 
the  mantel-piece,  holding  her  cigarette  in  her  hand, 
one  foot  on  the  fender.  The  figure  suffered  nothing 
from  this  pose. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you've  heard  that  I'm  going 
to  cut  politics? — at  least  office,  I  mean.  I  shall  stay 
in  the  House — for  a  bit  anyhow." 

Connie  did  not  hear  the  whispers  of  high  circles; 
she  received  the  news  in  unfeigned  surprise. 

126 


BRUISES    AND    BALM 

"There's  no  money  in  it,"  Beaufort  pursued,  know- 
ing how  to  make  her  appreciate  his  decision.  "I 
want  more  time  for  business." 

"You'd  better  come  in  with  papa,"  she  suggested, 
half  jokingly. 

"There  are  worse  ideas  than  that,"  he  said,  ap- 
provingly. 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  money,  except  that 
I  like  to  have  a  lot."  Her  strong,  hearty  laughter 
pealed  out  in  the  candid  confession. 

"I  expect  you  do;  lots  of  frocks,  eh,  and  jewels,  and 
so  on?" 

"  You  may  as  well  do  the  thing  as  well  as  you  can, 
mayn't  you?" 

Chance  finished  his  tumbler,  threw  away  his  cigarette, 
got  up,  and  stood  by  her  on  the  hearth-rug.  She  did 
not  shrink  from  his  approach,  but  maintained  her 
ground  with  a  jaunty  impudence. 

"And  then  you  have  plenty  of  fun?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  of  sorts,"  admitted  Connie  Fricker.  "Mam- 
ma's a  bit  down  on  me;  she  thinks  I  ought  to  be  so 
awfully  proper.  I  don't  know  why.  I'm  sure  the 
swells  aren't."  Connie  forgot  that  there  are  parallels 
to  the  case  of  the  emperor  being  above  grammar. 

"Well,  you  needn't  tell  her  everything,  need  you?" 

"There's  no  harm  done  by  telling  her — I  take  care 
of  that;  it's  when  she  finds  out!"  laughed  Connie. 

"You  can  take  care  of  that  too,  can't  you?" 

"Well,  I  try,"  she  declared,  flashing  her  eyes  full 
on  him. 

Beaufort  Chance  gave  a  laugh,  bent  swiftly,  and 
kissed  her. 

"Take  care  you  don't  tell  her  that,"  he  said. 

"  Oh !"  exclaimed  Connie,  darting  away.  She  turned 
and  looked  squarely  at  him,  flushed  but  smiling.  "  Well, 

127 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

you've  got — "  she  began.  But  the  sentence  never  end- 
ed. She  broke  off  with  a  wary,  frightened  "Hush!" 
and  a  jerk  of  her  hand  towards  the  door. 

Mrs.  Fricker  came  sailing  in,  ample  and  exceedingly 
cordial,  full  of  apologies,  hoping  that  "little  Connie" 
had  not  bored  the  visitor.  Beaufort  assured  her  to 
the  contrary,  little  Connie  telegraphing  her  under- 
standing of  the  humor  of  the  situation  over  her 
mother's  shoulders,  and  laying  a  finger  on  her  lips. 
Certainly  Connie,  whatever  she  had  been  about  to 
accuse  him  of,  showed  no  resentment  now;  she  was 
quite  ready  to  enter  into  a  conspiracy  of  silence. 

In  a  different  way,  but  hardly  less  effectually,  Mrs. 
Fricker  soothed  Beaufort  Chance's  spirit.  She,  too, 
helped  to  restore  him  to  a  good  conceit  of  himself; 
she  too  took  the  lower  place;  it  was  all  very  pleasant 
after  the  Bonfill  interview  and  the  hard  terms  that 
his  colleagues  and  Liffey  offered  him.  He  responded 
liberally,  half  in  a  genuine  if  not  exalted  gratitude, 
half  in  the  shrewd  consciousness  that  a  man  cannot 
stand  too  well  with  the  women  of  the  family. 

"And  how's  Mrs.  Trevalla?"  Evidently  Trix  oc- 
cupied no  small  place  in  the  thoughts  of  the  house- 
hold ;  evidently,  also,  Fricker  had  not  thought  it  well 
to  divulge  the  whole  truth  about  her  treachery. 

"I  haven't  seen  her  lately,"  he  said  again. 

"They  talk  a  lot  about  her  and  Lord  Mervyn,"  said 
Mrs.  Fricker,  not  without  a  sharp  glance  at  Beaufort. 

He  betrayed  nothing.  "  Gossip,  I  dare  say,  but  who 
knows?  Mrs.  Trevalla's  an  ambitious  woman." 

"I  see  nothing  in  her,"  said  Connie,  scornfully. 

"Happily  all  tastes  don't  agree,   Miss  Fricker." 

Connie  smiled  in  mysterious  triumph. 

Presently  he  was  told  that  Fricker  awaited  him  in 
the  study,  and  he  went  down  to  join  him.  Fricker 

128 


BRUISES    AND    BALM 

was  not  a  hard  man  out  of  hours  or  towards  his  friends ; 
he  listened  to  Beaufort's  story  with  sympathy  and 
with  a  good  deal  of  heartfelt  abuse  of  what  he  called 
the  "damned  hypocrisy"  of  Beaufort's  colleagues 
and  of  Mrs.  Bonfill.  He  did  not  accuse  Mr.  Liffey  of 
this  failing ;  he  had  enough  breadth  of  mind  to  recog- 
nize that  with  Mr.  Liffey  it  was  all  a  matter  of  busi- 
ness. 

"Well,  you  sha'n't  come  to  any  harm  through  me," 
he  promised.  "I'll  take  it  on  myself.  My  shoulders 
are  broad.  I've  made  ten  thousand  or  so,  and  every 
time  I  do  that  Liffey 's  welcome  to  an  article.  I  don't 
like  it,  you  know,  any  more  than  I  like  the  price  of  my 
champagne;  but  when  I  want  a  thing  I  pay  for  it." 

"I've  paid  devilish  high  and  got  very  little.  Curse 
that  woman,  Fricker!" 

"  Oh,  we'll  look  after  little  Mrs.  Trevalla.  Will  you 
leave  her  to  me?  Look,  I've  written  her  this  letter." 
He  handed  Beaufort  Chance  a  copy  of  it,  and  explained 
how  matters  were  to  be  managed.  He  laughed  very 
much  over  his  scheme.  Beaufort  gave  it  no  more 
explicit  welcome  than  a  grim  smile  and  an  ugly  look 
in  his  eyes;  but  they  meant  emphatic  approval. 

"That's  particularly  neat  about  Glowing  Stars," 
mused  Fricker  in  great  self-complacency.  "  She  doesn't 
know  anything  about  the  trifling  liability.  Oh,  I 
gave  her  every  means  of  knowing — sent  her  full  details. 
She  never  read  'em,  and  told  me  she  had!  She's  a 
thorough  woman.  Well,  I  shall  let  her  get  out  of 
Dramoffskys  rather  badly,  but  not  too  hopelessly 
badly.  Then  she'll  feel  virtuous — but  not  quite  so 
virtuous  as  to  sell  Glowing  Stars.  She'll  think  she 
can  get  even  on  them." 

"You  really  are  the  deuce,  Fricker." 

"Business,  my  boy.  Once  let  'em  think  they  can 
9  129 


play  with  you,  and  it's  all  up.  Besides,  it  '11  please 
my  womankind,  when  they  hear  what  she's  done, 
to  see  her  taken  down  a  peg."  He  paused  and  grew 
serious.  "So  you're  out  of  work,  eh?  But  you're 
an  M.P.  still.  That's  got  some  value,  even  nowa- 
days." 

"I  shouldn't  mind  a  job — not  this  instant,  though." 

"No,  no!  That  would  be  a  little  indiscreet.  But 
presently?" 

They  had  some  business  talk  and  parted  with  the 
utmost  cordiality. 

"I'll  let  myself  out,"  said  Beaufort.  He  took  one 
of  Pricker's  excellent  cigars,  lit  it,  put  on  his  hat,  and 
strolled  out. 

As  he  walked  through  the  hall  he  heard  a  cough 
from  half-way  up  the  stairs.  Turning  round,  he  saw 
Connie  Fricker ;  her  finger  was  on  her  lips ;  she  pointed 
warily  upward  towards  the  drawing-room  door,  showed 
her  teeth  in  a  knowing  smile,  and  blew  him  a  kiss. 
He  took  off  his  hat  with  one  hand,  while  the  other  did 
double  duty  in  holding  his  cigar  and  returning  the 
salute.  She  ran  off  with  a  stifled  laugh. 

Beaufort  was  smiling  to  himself  as  he  walked  down 
the  street.  The  visit  had  made  him  feel  better.  Both 
sentimentally  and  from  a  material  point  of  view  it 
had  been  consoling.  Let  his  colleagues  be  self- 
righteous,  Liffey  a  scoundrel,  Mrs.  Bonfill  a  prudish 
woman  who  was  growing  old,  still  he  was  not  done 
with  yet.  There  were  people  who  valued  him.  There 
were  prospects  which,  if  realized,  might  force  others 
to  revise  their  opinions  of  him.  Trix  Trevalla,  for  in- 
stance— he  fairly  chuckled  at  the  thought  of  Glowing 
Stars.  Then  he  remembered  Mervyn,  and  his  face 
grew  black  again.  It  will  be  seen  that  misfortune  had 
not  chastened  him  into  an  absolute  righteousness. 

130 


BRUISES    AND    BALM 

As  for  the  kiss  that  he  had  given  Connie  Flicker, 
he  thought  very  little  about  it.  He  knew  just  how  it 
had  happened,  how  with  that  sort  of  girl  that  sort  of 
thing  did  happen.  The  fine  eyes  not  shy,  the  chal- 
lenging look,  the  suggestion  of  the  jaunty  attitude — 
they  were  quite  enough.  Nor  did  he  suppose  that 
Connie  thought  very  much  about  the  occurrence  either. 
She  was  evidently  pleased,  liked  the  compliment,  ap- 
preciated what  she  would  call  "the  lark,"  and  en- 
joyed not  least  the  sense  of  hoodwinking  Mrs.  Fricker. 
Certainly  he  had  done  no  harm  with  Connie ;  nor  did 
he  pretend  that,  so  far  as  the  thing  went,  he  had  not 
liked  it  well  enough. 

He  was  right  about  all  the  feelings  that  he  assigned 
to  Connie  Fricker.  But  his  analysis  was  not  quite 
exhaustive.  While  all  the  lighter  shades  of  emotion 
which  he  attributed  to  her  were  in  fact  hers,  there  was 
in  her  mind  also  an  idea  which  showed  the  business 
blood  in  her.  Connie  was  of  opinion  that,  to  any  girl 
of  good  sense,  having  been  kissed  was  an  asset,  and 
might  be  one  of  great  value.  This  idea  is  not  refined, 
but  no  more  are  many  on  which  laws,  customs,  and 
human  intercourse  are  based.  It  was  then  somewhat 
doubtful  whether  Connie  would  be  content  to  let  the 
matter  rest  and  to  rank  his  tribute  merely  as  a  pastime 
or  a  compliment. 


CONCERNING  A  CERTAIN  CHINA  VASE 

AT  this  point  Trix  Trevalla's  fortunes  impose  on 
us  a  timid  advance  into  the  highest  regions,  where 
she  herself  trod  with  an  unaccustomed  foot.  Her  re- 
ception was  on  the  whole  gratifying.  The  Barmouths 
could  not,  indeed,  be  entirely  pleased  when  their  only 
son  proposed  to  make  a  match  so  far  from  brilliant; 
but,  after  all,  the  Trevallas  were  gentle-folk,  and  (a 
more  important  point)  the  Barmouths  had  such  a 
reverence  for  Mervyn  that  he  might  have  imitated 
the  rashness  of  King  Cophetua  without  encountering 
serious  opposition.  His  parents  felt  that  he  ennobled 
what  he  touched,  and  were  willing  to  consider  Trix 
as  ennobled  accordingly.  They  were,  very  exclusive 
people,  excluding  among  other  things,  as  it  some- 
times seemed,  a  good  deal  of  what  chanced  to  be  en- 
tertaining and  amusing.  It  does  not,  however,  do  to 
quarrel  with  anybody's  ideal  of  life;  it  is  simpler  not 
to  share  it. 

Roguish  nature  had  created  Lord  Barmouth  very 
short,  stout,  and  remarkably  unimposing;  he  made 
these  disadvantages  vanish  by  a  manner  of  high 
dignity  not  surpassed  even  by  his  tall  and  majestic 
wife.  They  had  a  very  big  house  in  Kent,  within 
easy  reach  of  London,  and  gave  Saturday-to-Monday 
parties,  where  you  might  meet  the  people  you  had 
met  in  London  during  the  week.  There  was  a  large 

132 


CONCERNING    A   CERTAIN    CHINA    VASE 

hall  with  marble  pillars  round  it,  excellently  adapted 
for  lying  in  state,  rather  chilly,  perhaps,  if  it  were  con- 
sidered as  a  family  hearth;  Lord  Barmouth  was  fond 
of  walking  his  guests  up  and  down  this  hall  and  telling 
them  what  was  going  to  happen  to  the  country — at 
least,  what  would,  if  it  were  not  for  Mortimer. 

"On  the  whole  I'd  sooner  go  to  the  dogs  and  not 
have  Mortimer,"  Lady  Blixworth  had  declared  after 
one  of  these  promenades. 

The  Glentorlys,  Lady  Blixworth,  and  Audrey  Pol- 
lington,  three  or  four  men — Constantine  Blair  among 
them  —  Mrs.  Bonfill,  Trix  herself,  and  Mervyn,  all 
came  down  in  a  bunch  on  Saturday  evening,  a  few 
days  after  Trix  had  promised  to  marry  Mervyn,  but 
before  any  formal  announcement  had  been  made. 
The  talk  ran  much  on  Beaufort  Chance :  he  was  pitied 
and  condemned;  he  was  also  congratulated  on  his 
resignation — that  was  the  proper  thing  to  do.  When 
this  was  said,  glances  turned  to  Mrs.  Bonfill.  She 
was  discreet,  but  did  not  discourage  the  tacit  assump- 
tion that  she  had  been  somehow  concerned  and  some- 
how deserved  credit. 

"It  is  vital — vital — to  make  an  example  in  such 
cases,"  said  Barmouth  at  dinner.  He  had  a  notion 
that  the  force  of  an  idea  was  increased  by  reiterating 
the  words  which  expressed  it. 

"We  naturally  feel  great  relief,"  said  Mervyn.  (By 
"we"  he  meant  the  ministry.) 

"  It's  straining  a  point  to  let  him  stay  in  the  House," 
declared  Glentorly. 

"The  seat's  shaky,"  murmured  Constantine  Blair. 
Mervyn's  eye  accused  him  of  saying  the  wrong  thing. 

Trix,  from  conscience  or  good-nature,  began  to  feel 
sorry  for  Beaufort  Chance. 

"Resist  the  beginnings  —  the  beginnings,"  said 
133 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Lord  Barmouth.  "The  habit  of  speculation  is  in- 
vading all  classes." 

"Public  men,  at  least,  must  make  a  stand/'  Mervyn 
declared. 

The  corners  of  Lady  Blixworth's  mouth  were  droop- 
ing in  despair.  "What  I  go  through  for  that  girl 
Audrey!"  she  was  thinking,  for  she  had  refused  a 
most  pleasant  little  dinner-and-theatre  party  in  town. 
She  was  not  in  a  good  temper  with  Trix  Trevalla,  but 
all  the  same  she  shot  her  a  glance  of  understanding 
and  sympathy. 

"Now  persons  like  this  Fricker  are  pests — pests," 
pursued  Barmouth. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Pricker's  really  a  very  good-natured  man," 
protested  Trix,  who  was  on  her  host's  left  hand. 

"You  know  him,  Mrs.  Trevalla?"  Lord  Barmouth 
did  not  conceal  his  surprise. 

"Oh  yes!" 

"Mrs.  Trevalla  knows  him  just  slightly,  father,"  said 
Mervyn. 

Lord  Barmouth  attained  a  frigid  amiability  as  he 
said,  with  a  smile :  "  Used  to  know  him,  perhaps  you'll 
say  now?" 

"That's  better,  Trix,  isn't  it?"  smiled  Mrs.  Bonfill. 

Lady  Blixworth's  satirical  smile  met  Trix  across  the 
table.  Trix  felt  mean  when  she  did  no  more  than 
laugh  weakly  in  response  to  Barmouth's  imperious 
suggestion.  She  understood  what  Lady  Blixworth 
meant. 

"If  we  cut  everybody  who's  disreputable,"  observed 
that  lady,  sweetly,  "we  can  all  live  in  small  houses 
and  save  up  for  the  death  duties." 

"  You're  joking,  Viola?"  Lady  Barmouth  complained ; 
she  was  almost  sure  of  it. 

"For  my  part,  if  Mr.  Fricker  will  put  me  on  to  a 

134 


CONCERNING    A    CERTAIN    CHINA    VASE 

good  thing — isn't  that  the  phrase,  Mortimer? — I  shall 
be  very  grateful  and  ask  him  to  dinner — no,  lunch; 
he  can  come  to  that  without  Mrs.  Fricker.  Why, 
you  used  to  stand  up  for  them,  Sarah!" 

"Things  are  different  now,"  said  Mrs.  Bonfill,  with 
a  touch  of  severity. 

"  Mrs.  Bonfill  means  that  circumstances  have  changed 
— changed  completely,"  Lord  Barmouth  explained. 

"I  thought  she  must  mean  that,"  murmured  Lady 
Blixworth,  gratefully. 

"You  can't  touch  pitch  without  being  defiled  —  de- 
filed," remarked  Lord  Barmouth,  with  an  unpleasant- 
ly direct  look  at  Trix.  Everybody  nodded  with  a  con- 
vinced air. 

"  That's  right,  Barmouth,"  said  Sir  Stapleton  Staple- 
ton-Staines,  a  gentleman  with  a  good  estate  in  that 
part  of  the  country.  "In  my  opinion  that's  right." 

That  being  settled,  Lady  Barmouth  rose. 

Next  morning  after  church  (everybody  went  except 
Lady  Blixworth,  who  had  announced  on  going  to  bed 
that  she  would  have  a  headache  until  lunch)  Mervyn 
took  Trix  for  a  walk  round  the  place.  It  was  then 
for  the  first  time,  her  fright  wearing  off,  that  the  truth 
of  the  position  flashed  on  her  in  all  its  brilliance.  She 
was  no  mere  Saturday-to-Monday  visitor;  she  had 
come  to  see  what  was  to  be  her  home;  she  was  to  be 
mistress  of  it  all  some  day.  Mervyn's  words,  and  his 
manner  still  more,  asserted  this  and  reminded  her 
of  it  every  moment:  the  long,  stately  facade  of  the 
house,  the  elaborate  gardens,  the  stretches  of  imme- 
morial turf,  all  the  spacious  luxury  of  the  pleasure- 
grounds,  every  fountain,  every  statue,  he  pointed  out, 
if  not  exactly  for  her  approval,  yet  as  if  she  had  a  right 
to  an  account  of  them,  and  was  to  be  congratulated  on 
their  excellence.  "I  have  a  great  deal  to  give — look 

135 


THE   INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

at  it  all.  I  give  it  all  to  you!"  Some  such  words 
summarize  roughly  Mervyn's  tone  and  demeanor. 
Trix  grew  eager  and  excited  as  the  fumes  of  greatness 
mounted  to  her  head;  she  hugged  the  anticipation 
of  her  splendor.  What  a  victory  it  was!  Think  of 
the  lodging-houses,  the  four  years  with  Vesey  Tre- 
valla,  the  pensions,  think  even  of  the  flat — the  flat 
and  the  debts — and  then  look  round  on  this !  Was  not 
this  the  revenge  indeed? 

And  the  price?  She  had  learned  enough  of  the  world 
now  to  be  getting  into  the  way  of  expecting  a  price. 
But  it  seemed  very  light  here.  She  liked  Mervyn, 
and  not  much  more  than  that  degree  of  feeling  seemed 
to  be  expected  of  her.  He  was  fond  of  kissing  her 
hand  in  a  rather  formal  fashion;  when  he  kissed  her 
cheek  there  was  a  hint  of  something  that  she  decided 
to  call  avuncular.  No  display  of  passion  was  asked 
from  her.  All  she  had  to  do  was  to  be  a  particularly 
good  girl;  in  view  of  the  manner  of  the  whole  family 
towards  her,  she  could  not  resist  that  way  of  putting 
it.  So  long  as  she  was  a  good  girl  they  would  be 
very  kind  to  her.  "But  we  can't  have  pranks — 
pranks,"  she  seemed  to  hear  her  future  father-in-law 
declaring.  Against  pranks  they  would  be  very  firm. 
Like  speculation,  like  the  Frickers,  pranks  might  in- 
vade every  class  of  society,  but  they  would  find  no 
countenance  from  the  house  of  Barmouth. 

Well,  pranks  are  a  small  part  of  life,  after  all.  One 
may  like  to  think  of  a  few  as  possible,  but  they  are 
surely  of  no  great  moment.  Trix  thoroughly  un- 
derstood the  gently  congratulatory  manner  which 
the  company  assumed  towards  her.  Audrey  Pol- 
lington  was  wistfully  and  almost  openly  envious; 
she  sat  between  two  fountains,  looking  at  the  house 
and  announcing  that  she  would  ask  no  more  than 

136 


CONCERNING    A    CERTAIN    CHINA    VASE 

to  sit  there  always.  Mrs.  Bonfill,  who  could  never  be 
in  a  big  house  without  seeming  to  own  it,  showed 
Trix  all  over  this  one,  and  kissed  her  twice  during 
the  process.  Lord  Barmouth  himself  walked  her 
round  and  round  the  hall  after  lunch,  and  told  her  a 
family  reminiscence  for  each  several  pillar  that  they 
passed.  Only  in  Lady  Blixworth's  eyes  did  Trix 
find  an  expression  that  might  be  malice,  or,  on  the 
other  hand,  conceivably  might  be  pity.  A  remark 
she  made  to  Trix  as  they  sat  together  in  the  garden 
favored  the  latter  view,  although,  of  course,  the  position 
of  affairs  tended  to  support  the  former. 

"I  suppose  you  haven't  had  enough  of  it  yet  to  feel 
anything  of  the  kind,"  she  said,  "but,  for  my  part, 
sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  should  like  to  get  drunk,  run 
out  into  the  road  in  my  petticoat,  and  scream!" 

"I  don't  think  Lord  Barmouth  would  let  you  come 
back  again,"  laughed  Trix. 

"I  suppose  Sarah's  trained  you  too  well.  Look  at 
Sarah!  It  wasn't  forced  on  her;  she  needn't  have 
had  it!  She  \vould  have  it,  and  she  loves  it." 

"  There's  a  great  deal  to  love  in  it,"  said  Trix,  looking 
round  her. 

"  Everything,  my  dear,  except  one  single  fandango ! 
Now  I  love  a  fandango.  So  I  go  about  looking  as  if 
I'd  never  heard  of  one."  She  turned  to  Trix.  "I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  you  loved  a  fandango  too?" 

"  I  haven't  had  many,"  said  Trix,  it  must  be  owned 
with  regret. 

"  No,  and  you  won't  now,"  remarked  Lady  Blixworth. 

There  was  no  use  in  keeping  up  the  fiction  of  a  secret. 

"I  shall  have  to  be  very  good  indeed,"  smiled  Trix. 

"Oh,  it's  just  splendid  for  you,  of  course!"  The 
natural  woman  and  the  trained  one  were  at  issue  in 
Lady  Blixworth's  heart.  "  And  I  dare  say  one  might 

137 


THE    INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

love  Mortimer.  Don't  be  hurt  —  I'm  only  speculat- 
ing." 

"He's  everything  that's  good  and  distinguished 
and  kind." 

Lady  Blixworth  looked  round  cautiously,  smiled  at 
Trix,  and  remarked  with  the  utmost  apparent  irrele- 
vance, "  Fol-de-rol ! ' ' 

Then  they  both  laughed. 

"Hush!  Here  comes  Sarah!  Don't  look  thought- 
ful, or  she'll  kiss  you.  Kisses  are  a  remedy  for  thought 
sometimes,  but  not  Sarah's." 

Trix  did  not  regard  the  absence  of  pranks  and  fan- 
dangoes as  an  inseparable  accident  of  high  degree — 
there  facts  might  have  confuted  her — but  it  certainly 
seemed  the  most  striking  characteristic  of  the  par- 
ticular exalted  family  to  which  she  was  to  belong. 
The  guests  left  on  Monday;  Trix  remained  for  the 
week,  alone  with  her  prospective  relations.  Mervyn 
ran  up  to  his  office  two  or  three  times,  but  he  was  not 
wanted  in  the  House,  and  was  most  of  the  time  at 
Barslett,  as  the  place  was  called.  Everything  was 
arranged;  the  engagement  was  to  be  announced  im- 
mediately; Trix  was  in  the  house  on  the  footing  of 
a  daughter.  For  some  reason  or  another  she  was 
treated — she  could  not  deny  it — rather  like  a  prodigal 
daughter;  even  her  lover  evidently  thought  that  she 
had  a  good  deal  to  learn  and  quite  as  much  to  for- 
get. All  the  three  were  industrious  people,  all  wanted 
her  to  understand  their  work,  all  performed  it  with 
an  unconcealed  sense  of  merit.  Lord  Barmouth  was 
a  churchman  and  a  farmer;  Lady  Barmouth  was  a 
politician  and  a  housekeeper;  Merv37n,  besides  going 
to  be  prime-minister,  was  meditating  a  Life  of  Burke. 
"One  never  need  be  idle  in  the  country,"  Barmouth 
used  to  say.  To  Trix's  mind  he  went  far  to  rob  the 

138 


CONCERNING    A   CELRTAIN    CHINA    VASE 

country  of  its  main  attraction.  She  felt  that  she  would 
have  bartered  a  little  splendor  against  a  little  more 
liveliness.  Was  this  to  repent  of  her  bargain?  No, 
in  truth!  She  was  always  giving  thanks  that  she 
had  done  so  magnificently,  got  out  of  all  her  troubles, 
sailed  prosperously  into  a  haven  so  ample  and  so  sure. 
Yet  Lady  Blixworth's  untutored  impulse  recurred 
to  her  now  and  then,  and  met  with  a  welcoming  smile 
of  sympathy.  Airey  Newton  and  Peggy  Ryle  came 
into  her  mind,  too,  on  occasion;  their  images  were 
dismissed  with  a  passing  sigh. 

What  annoyed  her  most  was  that  she  found  her 
courage  failing.  The  high  spirit  that  had  defied 
Beaufort  Chance,  braved  Fricker,  and  treated  almost 
on  equal  terms  with  Mrs.  Bonfill,  seemed  cowed  by 
the  portentous  order,  decorum,  usefulness,  industry, 
and  piety  that  now  encircled  her  in  a  ring-fence  of 
virtue.  Day  by  day  she  became  more  afraid  of  this 
august  couple  and  their  even  more  august  son,  her 
lover  and  chosen  husband.  She  had  said  that  she 
must  be  a  good  girl  in  fun  at  first,  as  a  burlesque  on 
their  bearing  towards  her.  Really,  truth  threatened  to 
overtake  the  burlesque  and  make  it  rather  fall  short 
of  than  exaggerate  or  caricature  her  feelings.  She 
would  never  dare  to  rebel,  to  disregard,  or  to  question. 
She  would  be  good — and  she  wrould  be  good  because 
she  would  be  afraid  to  be  anything  else.  Of  course 
the  world  would  know  nothing  of  that — it  would  see 
only  the  splendor — but  she  would  know  it  always. 
Under  the  fine  robes  there  \vould  be  golden  chains 
about  her  feet.  If  her  ideal  of  life  had  demanded  free- 
dom besides  everything  else,  it  was  like  to  share  the 
fate  of  most  ideals. 

"Oh,  if  I  had  the  courage  to  defy  them!  Perhaps 
I  shall  when  I'm  married!" 

139 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF   PEGGY 

No,  she  feared  that  she  never  would — not  thoroughly 
nor  without  a  quaking  heart  at  least.  Not  because 
they  were  particularly  wise  or  clever,  or  even  super- 
naturally  good.  Rather  because  they  were  so  es- 
tablished, so  buttressed  by  habit,  so  intrenched  by 
the  tradition  of  their  state.  Defiance  would  seem 
rebellion  and  sacrilege  in  one.  Trix  had  no  difficulty 
in  imagining  any  one  of  the  three  ordering  her  to  bed  ; 
and  (oh,  worst  humiliation!)  she  knew  that  in  such 
a  case  she  would  go,  and  go  in  frightened  tears.  Such 
an  absurd  state  of  mind  as  this  was  intolerably  vexa- 
tious. 

"When  you  were  a  boy,  were  you  afraid  of  your 
father  and  mother?"  she  asked  Mervyn  once. 

"  Afraid  \"  He  laughed.  "  I  never  remember  having 
the  least  difference  with  either  of  them." 

That  was  it ;  nobody  ever  would  have  any  differences 
in  that  family. 

"  I'm  rather  afraid  of  them,"  she  confessed.  When 
he  smiled  again  she  added,  "And  of  you  too." 

"How  silly!"  he  said,  gently.  It  was,  however, 
tolerably  plain  that  he  was  neither  surprised  nor  dis- 
pleased. He  took  the  fear  to  which  she  owned  as  a 
natural  tribute  to  the  superiority  of  the  family,  a  play- 
ful feminine  way  which  she  chose  to  express  her  ad- 
miration and  respect.  He  kissed  her  affectionately — 
as  if  she  had  been  very  good.  No  doubt,  if  there  were 
bed  when  necessary,  there  would,  on  suitable  occa- 
sions, be  sugar-plums  too.  To  Trix  Trevalla,  erstwhile 
rebel,  jailer,  wanderer,  free-lance,  the  whole  thing 
seemed  curiously  like  a  second  childhood,  very  dif- 
ferent from  her  first,  and  destined  to  continue  through 
her  life. 

"  It  '11  make  a  slave  or  a  liar  of  me,  I  know,"  she 
thought.  But  she  thought  also  that,  if  she  spoke 

140 


CONCERNING    A    CERTAIN    CHINA    VASE 

to  Lady  Blixworth  in  that  vein,  she  would  be  asked 
on  what  grounds  she  expected  to  escape  the  common 
lot.  It  would  probably  make  her  both  a  liar  and  a 
slave,  Lady  Blixworth  would  say  with  her  languid 
smile;  but  then  the  compensations!  Even  Lady 
Blix worth's  wild  impulse  was  admittedly  only  oc- 
casional, whereas  she  had  a  standing  reputation  for 
refinement  and  elegance. 

An  example  of  what  was  going  to  happen  all  her 
life  occurred  on  the  last  day  of  her  visit,  the  last  day, 
too,  before  the  world  was  to  hail  her  as  the  future  Lady 
Mervyn.  She  was  sitting  by  Mervyn  reading  a  book, 
while  he  wrote.  The  post  came  in,  and  there  was  a 
letter  for  her.  While  he  attacked  his  pile,  she  began 
on  her  one.  It  was  from  Fricker.  A  quick  glance 
assured  her  that  Mervyn 's  attention  was  fully  oc- 
cupied. 

Mr.  Pricker's  letter  opened  very  cordially  and  ran 
to  a  considerable  length.  It  was  concerned  with  Dra- 
moffskys,  and  told  her  that  he  had  sold  her  holding, 
considering  that  step  on  the  whole  the  wisest  thing 
in  her  interest.  Owing,  however,  to  a  great  variety 
of  unforeseen  events — more  rumors,  new  complica- 
tions, further  anxiety  as  to  what  the  Czar  meant  to 
do — he  regretted  to  inform  her  that  he  had  for  once 
miscalculated  the  course  of  the  market.  Dramoffskys 
had  fallen  rather  severely;  he  would  not  take  the  re- 
sponsibility of  saying  whether  or  when  they  would 
be  likely  to  rise  to  the  price  at  which  she  had  bought 
— much  less  go  higher.  They  would  be  worse  before 
they  were  better — long  before — was  the  conclusion 
at  which  he  arrived  with  regret.  So  that  in  fine,  and 
omitting  many  expressions  of  sorrow,  it  came  to  this : 
out  of  her  five  thousand  pounds  he  was  in  a  position 
to  hand  back  only  a  sum  of  £2,301  55.  lid.,  which 

141 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

amount  he  had  had  the  pleasure  of  paying  to  her  ac- 
count at  her  bank.  "I  will  advise  you  subsequently 
as  to  Glowing  Stars, "  he  ended,  but  Trix  had  no 
thoughts  to  spare  for  Glowing  Stars. 

The  blow  was  very  severe.  She  had  counted  on 
a  big  profit,  she  was  faced  with  a  heavy  loss.  She 
did  not  suspect  Pricker's  good  faith,  but  was  aghast 
at  her  own  bad  luck. 

"How  horrible!"  she  exclaimed,  aloud,  letting  the 
letter  fall  in  her  lap.  Even  for  a  moment  more  she 
forgot  that  she  was  sitting  by  Mervyn. 

"What's  the  matter,  dear?"  he  asked,  turning  round. 
"No  bad  news  in  your  letter,  1  hope?" 

"No,  nothing  serious,  nothing  serious,"  she  stam- 
mered, making  a  hasty  clutch  at  the  two  big  type- 
written sheets  of  paper. 

"Are  you  sure?  Tell  me  about  it.  You  must  tell 
me  all  your  troubles."  He  stretched  out  his  hand 
and  pressed  hers.  She  crumpled  up  the  letter. 

"It's  nothing,  really  nothing,  Mortimer." 

"Do  you  cry  out  'How  horrible!'  about  nothing?" 
His  smile  was  playful ;  such  a  course  of  conduct  would 
be  plainly  unreasonable.  "Whom  is  it  from?"  he 
asked. 

"It's  from  my  servant,  to  tell  me  she's  broken  a 
china  vase  I'm  very  fond  of,"  said  Trix,  in  a  smooth 
voice,  quite  fluently,  her  eyes  fixed  on  Mervyn  in  in- 
nocent grief  and  consternation. 

Fortunately  he  was  not  an  observant  man.  He 
had  noticed  neither  the  typewriting  nor  Trix's  initial 
confusion.  He  patted  her  hand,  then  drew  it  to  him 
and  kissed  it,  saying  with  a  laugh: 

" I'm  glad  it's  no  worse.  You  looked  so  frightened." 
Then  he  turned  back  to  his  letters. 

Presently  Trix  escaped  into  the  garden  in  a  tempest 

142 


CONCERNING    A   CERTAIN    CHINA    VASE 

of  rage  at  herself.  She  was  thinking  no  more  of  the 
treacherous  conduct  of  Dramoffskys,  but  of  herself. 

"That's  what  I  shall  always  do!"  she  exclaimed 
to  the  trim  lawns  and  the  sparkling  fountains,  to  the 
stately  facade  that  was  some  day  to  salute  her  as  its 
mistress.  "How  easily  I  did  it,  how  naturally!" 
She  came  to  a  pause.  "I'll  go  in  and  tell  him."  She 
took  a  step  or  two  towards  the  house,  but  stopped  again. 
"No,  I  can't  now."  She  turned  away,  saying  aloud, 
"1  daren't!" 

The  thought  flashed  into  her  mind  that  he  would 
be  very  easy  to  deceive.  It  brought  no  comfort.  And 
if  he  ever  found  out!  She  must  end  all  connection 
with  Fricker,  anyhow.  She  could  not  have  such  an 
inevitable  source  of  lies  about  her  as  that  business 
meant. 

"How  easily  I  did  it!"  she  reflected  to  herself  again 
in  a  sort  of  horror. 

Mervyn  told  the  story  at  dinner,  rallying  Trix  on 
her  exaggerated  consternation  over  the  news.  Lady 
Barmouth  took  up  the  cudgels  for  her,  maintaining  a 
housewife's  view  of  the  importance  and  preciousness 
of  household  possessions.  Lord  Barmouth  suggested 
that  perhaps  the  vase  was  an  heirloom,  and  asked 
Trix  how  she  became  possessed  of  it,  what  was  it  like, 
what  ware,  what  color,  what  size,  and  so  forth.  Thence 
they  passed,  under  Lady  Barmouth 's  guidance,  to 
the  character  of  the  servant,  to  her  previous  record 
in  the  matter  of  breakages,  comparing  her  incidentally 
in  this  and  other  respects  with  a  succession  of  sen-ants 
who  had  been  at  Barslett.  Steadily  and  unfalteringly, 
really  with  great  resource  and  dexterity,  Trix  equipped 
both  servant  and  vase  with  elaborate  histories  and  de- 
scriptions, and  agreed  with  the  suggestion  that  the 
vase  might  perhaps  be  mended,  and  that  the  servant 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

must  be  at  least  seriously  warned  as  to  what  would 
happen  in  the  event  of  such  a  thing  ever  occurring 
again.  The  topic  with  its  ramifications  lasted  pretty 
well  through  the  meal,  Trix  imagining  all  the  time 
every  sort  of  unlikely  catastrophe  which  might  possibly 
result  in  her  dressing-case  falling  into  the  hands  of 
the  family  and  Mr.  Pricker's  letter  being  discovered 
therein. 

Well,  there  was  nothing  for  it;  she  must  be  good. 
If  she  would  not  go  on  lying,  she  must  obey.  There 
was  some  of  the  old  hardness  about  her  eyes  and  her 
lips  as  she  came  to  this  conclusion.  She  was  not, 
after  all,  accustomed  to  having  everything  just  as  she 
liked.  That  had  been  only  a  dream,  inspired  by  Airey 
Newton's  words  at  Paris;  when  put  to  the  test  of 
experience,  it  had  not  borne  the  strain.  She  was  to 
belong  to  the  Barmouths,  to  be  admitted  to  that  great 
family;  she  would  pay  her  dues. 

She  was  very  sweet  to  Mervyn  that  evening;  there 
was  a  new  submission  in  her  manner,  a  strong  flavor 
of  the  dutiful  wife.  From  afar  Lord  Barmouth  marked 
it  with  complacency  and  called  his  wife's  attention 
to  it. 

"Yes,  and  I  liked  her  for  thinking  so  much  about 
her  vase,  poor  child,"  said  Lady  Barmouth. 

"In  my  opinion  she  will  be  a  success — a  success," 
said  he.  "After  all,  we  might  have  been  sure  that 
Mortimer  would  make  a  suitable  choice." 

"Yes,  and  Sarah  Bonfill  thoroughly  approves." 

Lord  Barmouth 's  expression  implied  that  Mrs.  Bon- 
fill's  approval  might  be  satisfactory,  but  could  not  be 
considered  essential.  In  such  matters  the  family  was 
a  sufficient  law  unto  itself. 

The  next  day  Trix  went  up  to  town.  At  the  station 
Mervyn  gave  her  a  copy  of  the  Times  containing  the 

144 


CONCERNING  A  CERTAIN  CHINA  VASE 

announcement  that  a  marriage  had  been  arranged 
between  them.  His  manner  left  nothing  to  be  desired 
— by  any  reasonable  person  at  least;  and  he  promised 
to  come  and  see  her  on  his  way  to  the  House  next  day. 
Trix  steamed  off  with  the  Times  in  her  hand  and  the 
hum  of  congratulation  already  sounding  in  her  ex- 
pectant ears. 

She  lay  back  in  the  railway  carriage,  feeling  tired 
but  content — too  tired,  perhaps,  to  ask  whence  came 
her  content.  The  hum  of  congratulation,  of  course, 
had  something  to  do  with  it.  Had  escaping  from 
Barslett  something  to  do  with  it,  too?  Lazily  she 
gave  up  the  problem,  threw  the  Times  aside,  and  went 
to  sleep. 

When  the  train  was  nearing  London  she  awoke 
with  a  start.  She  had  been  having  visions  again; 
they  had  come  while  she  slept — strange  mixtures 
of  the  gay  restaurant  and  of  dingy  Danes  Inn ;  a  room 
where  Airey  Newton  smoked  his  pipe,  where  the  only 
sound  was  of  Peggy  Ryle's  heart-whole  laughter;  a 
dream  of  irresponsibility  and  freedom.  She  laughed 
at  herself  as  she  awoke,  caught  up  the  paper  again, 
and  re-read  that  important  announcement.  There 
lay  reality;  have  done  with  figments!  And  what  a 
magnificent  reality  it  was !  She  stepped  out  on  to  the 
platform  at  Charing  Cross  with  conscious  dignity. 

At  the  flat  it  rained  telegrams ;  from  everybody  they 
came  —  from  the  Bonfills,  the  Glentorlys  —  yes,  and 
the  Farringhams;  from  crowds  of  less-known  people. 
There  was  one  from  Viola  Blixworth,  and  there  was 
one  from  Peggy  Ryle.  She  accorded  this  last  the 
recognition  of  a  little  sigh.  Then  she  \vent  to  dress 
for  a  dinner-party.  Her  entry  into  the  drawing-room 
that  evening  would  be  the  first-fruits  of  her  triumph. 
She  thought  no  more  about  the  china  vase. 

145 


XI 

THE  MIXTURE  AS  BEFORE 

FOR  years  a  man  may  go  on  not  perceiving  nor 
understanding  what  he  is  doing  with  his  life, 
failing  to  see  not  merely  whither  it  is  tending  under 
his  guidance,  but  even  the  various  points  at  which 
from  time  to  time  it  arrives.  Miles  Childwick  had 
recommended  a  frame  of  mind  affected  with,  or  even 
devoted  to,  this  blindness  when  he  argued  against 
the  fallacy  of  broad  views;  perhaps,  like  some  oth- 
er things  that  do  not  as  a  rule  work  well,  it  would 
work  well  enough  if  it  could  be  maintained  with  abso- 
lute consistency.  But  a  breakdown  is  hard  to  avoid. 
Something  happens  to  the  man,  or,  just  as  often,  to 
another  whom  he  knows  and  has  watched  as  he  has 
not  watched  his  own  doings ;  in  the  light  of  it  he  dis- 
cerns hidden  things  about  himself.  He  may  find 
that  he  has  given  fame  the  go-by,  or  power,  or  the 
attainment  of  great  place;  he  may  groan  over  the 
discovery,  or  he  may  say  Vile  damnum  and  go  back 
to  his  unobtrusive  industry  or  his  leisurely  study. 
He  may  discover  that  he  is  not  useful,  and  be  struck 
with  remorse,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  inspired  to  a 
sceptical  defiance  of  the  obligation;  he  may  see  that 
nobody  is  likely  ever  to  think  much  of  him  or  to  care 
much  about  him,  and  smile  at  their  Tightness  or  their 
wrongness  as  his  opinion  leads  him,  and  be  annoyed 
or  resigned  as  his  temperament  dictates.  Or  he  may 

146 


THE    MIXTURE    AS   BETORE 

awake  to  a  sense  of  some  loss  at  once  vaguer  and  larger 
than  any  of  those  hitherto  suggested,  a  loss  not  of 
any  particular  thing,  however  desirable,  out  of  life, 
but  a  loss  of  life  itself;  he  has  abdicated  legitimate 
pretensions,  drawn  back  his  boundaries,  thrown  away 
part  of  his  inheritance,  denied  to  his  being  some  of 
the  development  to  which  it  was  inherently  able  to 
attain.  A  man  who  arrives  at  this  conclusion  must 
be  of  a  very  unusual  temper  if  he  does  not  suffer  dis- 
quietude and  discontent.  It  is  easy  to  maintain  that 
any  given  object  of  ambition,  or  even  that  any  chosen 
excellence,  is  not  indispensable ;  it  needs  more  resolution 
to  say  that  it  is  immaterial  and  no  ground  for  regret 
that  a  man  has  been  less  of  a  man,  a  narrower  creature, 
than  it  lay  in  his  power  to  be;  that  he  has  stopped 
when  he  might  have  gone  forward,  and  fallen  into 
the  habit  of  saying  "  No  "  when  he  ought  to  have  cul- 
tivated the  practice  of  saying  "  Yes. "  It  is  difficult  for 
him  to  vindicate  to  himself  his  refusal  of  the  fulness 
of  life  according  as  the  measure  of  his  ability  would 
have  realized  it  for  him.  It  is  nothing  to  say  that 
he  has  had  as  much  as,  or  more  than,  A,  B,  or  C.  He 
agrees  scornfully.  Has  he  taken  as  much  as  he  him- 
self could  have  claimed  by  the  right  of  his  nature  and 
faculties?  That  seems  the  primeval  obligation,  Nat- 
ure's great  command,  to  be  obeyed  in  ten  thousand 
different  ways,  but  always  to  be  obeyed. 

"Do  you  live?"  Trix  Trevalla  had  once  asked  Airey 
Newton.  He  had  answered,  "  Hardly."  Yet,  when  he 
said  that,  consciousness  of  the  truth  had  been  very 
dim  and  faint  in  him,  just  nascent  perhaps,  but  unable 
to  assert  itself  against  things  stronger  in  his  soul. 
If  it  had  grown  from  that  time  onward,  the  growth  had 
been  unmarked  and  almost  imperceptible.  He  had 
his  great  delight,  his  preoccupation  and  propensity; 

147 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

that  had  still  seemed  enough.  His  renewed  meeting 
with  Trix,  especially  that  talk  of  theirs  after  his  din- 
ner-party, had  fonvarded  matters  another  stage.  The 
news  of  her  engagement  to  Mervyn  seemed  the  cue  on 
which  voices  long  silenced  in  him  spoke  aloud — not, 
indeed,  in  unreserved  praise  of  Trix,  a  line  permissible 
neither  to  his  conception  of  the  case  nor  to  truth  itself, 
but  in  an  assertion  that  she  was  at  least  trying  for 
what  he  had  let  slip,  was  reaching  out  her  hands  to 
the  limit  of  life,  was  trying  what  the  world  could  do  for 
her.  And,  as  he  understood,  she  dated  this  effort 
back  to  his  advice.  In  the  irony  of  that  thought  he 
found  the  concrete  instance  needed  to  give  unity,  force, 
and  clearness  to  the  vague  murmurs  of  his  spirit. 

His  mood  bred  no  action ;  what  stood  between  ?  First, 
a  sense  that  he  was  too  late ;  the  feeling  that  Trix  had 
awakened  centred  on  her;  she  was  to  him  part,  an 
essential  part,  of  the  full  life  as  it  rose  before  his  eyes ; 
and,  in  fact,  she  was  nothing  to  him.  He  would  have 
liked  to  be  content  with  that  answer.  But  there  was 
another;  the  red  book  and  the  safe  still  stood  in  the 
corner  of  his  room.  A  divination  of  the  true  deity 
is  but  a  small  step  towards  robbing  the  old  idol  of  his 
time-consecrated  power.  Airey  Newton  was  left  cry- 
ing "Impossible!"  in  answer  to  his  own  demand  for 
the  stir  of  life  which  Trix  Trevalla  embodied  for  him. 
Trix  herself  had  wistfully  given  the  same  answer 
when  Peggy  Ryle  made  her  long  for  the  joy  of  it. 

A  week  after  the  news  which  had  such  a  peculiar 
significance  for  one  man  as  well  as  its  obvious  social 
importance  to  many  people,  Peggy  Ryle  dropped 
in  at  Danes  Inn  and  ate  bread-and-butter  in  a  com- 
plimentary sort  of  way.  She  also  wanted  another 
fifty  pounds  from  her  hoard,  but  she  meant  to  lead 
up  to  this  gently,  as  she  had  observed  that  Airey  dis- 

148 


THE    MIXTURE    AS    BEFORE 

approved  of  her  extravagance,  and  handed  out  her 
money  to  her  with  reluctance. 

"Well,  Airey,  I  suppose  you  haven't  heard  any- 
thing that's  happening?"  she  said. 

"Probably  not,"  he  agreed,  with  a  grim  smile. 
"You're  in  the  thick  of  it  all?" 

"For  the  present/'  Peggy  replied,  cautiously.  "I'm 
considered  an  heiress,  and  they  ask  me  everywhere. 
Mrs.  Bonfill  has  offered  to  take  me  out!  I'm  great, 
Airey.  And  I've  gone  to  lots  of  places  with  Mrs. 
Trevalla." 

"She's  great,  too?" 

"Oh  yes,  much  greater.     A  new  loaf  to-day?" 

"I  thought  you  were  about  due.  Want  some  more 
money?" 

"How  nice  of  you  to  suggest  it!"  cried  Peggy,  in 
relieved  gratitude.  "Just  fifty,  please — to  pay  for 
a  frock,  a  supper,  a  box,  and  incidental  expenses/' 

"I  think  you'd  better  fit  yourself  up  \vith  a  rich 
match,  like  Mrs.  Trevalla.  You'll  be  in  the  work- 
house in  three  months." 

"I've  been  there  before.  Lots  of  friends  always 
there,  Airey."  Her  nod  and  smile  included  him  in 
the  number  with  an  affectionate  gratitude.  "And  I 
don't  know  that  Mrs.  Trevalla  is  to  be  envied  so  par- 
ticularly. I  dare  say  it's  very  nice  to  be  married  in 
a  cathedral,  but  it's  not  as  inviting  to  be  married  to 
one — and  it's  what  Lord  Mervyn  reminds  me  of.  Trix 
isn't  in  love  with  him,  of  course." 

Undoubtedly  Airey  Newton  was  glad  to  hear  that, 
though  with  no  joy  which  can  rank  above  a  dog-in- 
the-manger's.  However,  he  made  no  comment  on  it. 

"And  who's  in  love  with  you?"  he  asked. 

"Two  or  three  men,  Airey,"  replied  Peggy,  com- 
posedly— "besides  Miles,  I  mean."  Miles's  affection 

149 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

was  composed,  but  public.  "Miles  renewed  his  offer 
on  hearing  that  I  had  come  into  money.  He  said  that 
the  circumstance  freed  his  action  from  any  offensive 
appearance  of  benevolence." 

"And  you  said  no?" 

"  I  never  say  no  to  Miles.  I  never  can  do  anything 
but  laugh.  It  would  be  just  perfect  if  he  didn't  mean 
it."  In  spite  of  her  sympathy,  Peggy  laughed  again. 
"I  wish  you  were  rich  and  were  going  to  marry  Trix 
Trevalla,"  she  resumed.  "She's  very  fond  of  you, 
you  know,  Airey." 

"Stuff!"  growled  Airey,  unceremoniously. 

"Well,  of  course,"  sighed  Peggy,  glancing  round 
the  room. 

A  man  may  say  "  Stuff!"  and  yet  riot  be  overpleased 
to  have  it  greeted  with  "Of  course!"  Airey  grumbled 
something  into  his  pipe;  Peggy  smiled  without  hear- 
ing it. 

"Well,  I  mean  she'd  never  marry  anybody  who 
wasn't  well  off,"  she  explained.  "She  couldn't,  you 
see;  she's  very  extravagant.  I'm  sure  she  spends 
more  than  she's  got.  But  that  doesn't  matter  now." 

"And  perhaps  you  needn't  be  very  severe  on  it," 
Airey  suggested. 

"You  gave  an  enormous  dinner,"  Peggy  retorted, 
triumphantly. 

Airey  began  to  walk  about  the  room,  giving  an 
occasional  and  impatient  tug  at  his  beard. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Peggy,  noting  these 
signs  of  disturbance. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Airey,  fretfully.  "  You  needn't  talk 
as  if  I  was  a  pauper,"  he  broke  out  the  next  moment. 

Here  was  something  strange  indeed.  Never  before 
had  he  resented  any  implied  reference  to  his  poverty; 
nay,  he  had  rather  seemed  to  welcome  it ;  and  in  their 

150 


THE    MIXTURE   AS   BEFORE 

little  circle  everybody  took  the  thing  as  a  matter  of 
course.  But  Airey  stood  there  looking  resentful,  or, 
at  least,  ashamed  and  greatly  hurt  anyhow.  Peggy 
was  terribly  upset.  She  jumped  up  and  ran  to  him, 
holding  out  her  hands. 

"How  could  I?"  she  cried.  "I  had  no  idea — Dear 
Airey,  do  forgive  me!  I  never  thought  of  hurting 
your  feelings!  How  can  you  think  that  I  or  any  of 
us  mind  a  scrap  whether  you're  rich  or  poor?"  There 
were  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  she  would  not  be  refused 
a  grasp  of  his  hands.  "You  thought  I  took  it  all — 
all  you  give  me — and  then  sneered  at  youl"  gasped 
Peggy. 

"I'm  comfortably  off/'  said  Airey,  stiffly  and  ob- 
stinately. 

"Yes,  yes;  of  course  you  are.  I'll  never  say  any- 
thing of  the  sort  again,  Airey."  She  let  go  his  hands 
with  a  reluctant  slowness;  she  missed  the  hearty  for- 
giveness for  which  she  had  begged.  He  puzzled  her 
now. 

"  I  have  money  for  everything  I  need.  I  don't  pose 
as  being  poor." 

"Oh,  you  mustn't  take  it  like  that,"  she  groaned, 
feeling  fit  to  cry  in  real  earnest,  conceiving  him  to  be 
terribly  wounded,  sure  now  that  he  had  squandered 
his  resources  on  the  dinner  because  among  them  they 
had  made  him  ashamed  of  being  poor.  She  could 
not  herself  understand  being  ashamed  of  poverty,  but 
she  had  an  idea  that  many  people  were — especially 
men,  perhaps,  to  whom  it  properly  belonged  to  labor, 
and  to  labor  successfully. 

"I  sha'n't  go  until  you  forgive  me,"  she  insisted. 
"It  '11  spoil  everything  for  me  if  you  don't,  Airey." 

"There's  nothing  to  forgive,"  he  rejoined,  gloomily, 
as  he  dropped  into  a  chair  by  the  little  table  and  rest- 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

ed  his  elbow  on  the  red-leather  book.  "I  don't  want 
to  sail  under  false  pretences,  that's  all."  His  tones 
were  measured  and  still  hard.  Peggy  felt  herself 
in  disgrace;  she  drifted  back  to  the  window  and  for- 
lornly poured  out  another  cup  of  tea. 

The  impulse  had  been  on  Airey  to  tell  her  every- 
thing, to  abandon  to  her  his  great  secret,  to  let  her 
know  the  truth  as  Tommy  Trent  knew  it,  to  make 
her  understand,  by  bitter  mockery  of  himself,  what 
that  truth  had  done  to  him.  But  at  the  last  he  had 
not  power  to  conquer  the  old  habit  of  secrecy  or  to 
face  the  change  that  a  disclosure  must  bring.  He 
unlocked  his  safe,  indeed,  but  it  was  only  to  take  out 
five  ten-pound  notes ;  her  money  was  all  in  notes — she 
liked  the  crackle  of  them.  That  done,  he  shut  the 
door  with  a  swing,  clanking  the  heavy  bolts  home 
with  a  vicious  twist  of  the  handle. 

"It  sounds  as  if  it  meant  to  keep  whatever  it  gets, 
doesn't  it?"  asked  Peggy,  with  a  laugh  still  rather 
nervous.  She  took  the  notes.  "Thanks,  Airey.  I 
love  money."  She  crackled  the  notes  against  her 
cheek. 

Airey's  laugh,  almost  hearty,  certainly  scornful, 
showed  that  he  was  recovering  his  temper.  "Your 
love  displays  itself  in  getting  rid  of  the  beloved  object 
as  quickly  as  possible/'  he  remarked. 

"That's  what  it's  for,"  smiled  Peggy,  happy  at  the 
re-establishment  of  friendly  relations. 

Peggy  paid  two  or  three  other  visits  that  day.  At 
Mrs.  Bonfill's  she  found  Glentorly  and  Constantine 
Blair.  She  was  admitted,  but  nobody  took  much  no- 
tice of  her.  They  were  deep  in  political  talk :  things 
were  not  going  very  well ;  the  country  was  not  relying 
on  Lord  Glentorly  in  quite  the  proper  spirit.  Clouds 
were  on  everybody's  brow.  Peggy  departed  and  be- 

152 


THE    MIXTURE    AS    BEFORE 

took  herself  to  Lady  Blixworth's.  The  atmosphere 
here,  too,  was  heavy  and  lamentable.  Audrey  seemed 
resentful  and  forlorn,  her  aunt  acid  and  sharp;  dis- 
appointment brooded  over  the  premises. 

"How  people  worry!"  Peggy  reflected,  as  she  got 
back  into  her  hansom  and  told  the  man  to  drive  to 
Trix  Trevalla's ;  if  not  at  Danes  Inn,  if  not  in  the 
houses  of  the  great,  there  at  least  in  Trix's  flat  she 
ought  to  find  gayety  and  triumph.  The  fact  that  peo- 
ple worried  was  oppressing  Peggy  to-day.  Alas,  Trix 
Trevalla  was  with  Lord  Mervyn!  Gathering  this  fact 
from  a  discreet  servant,  Peggy  fled  back  into  her  han- 
som with  the  sense  of  having  escaped  a  great  peril. 
She  had  met  Lord  Mervyn  at  Mrs.  BonfnTs. 

Whither  now?  Why,  to  Tommy  Trent's,  of  course. 
The  hansom  (which  was  piling  up  a  very  good  fare) 
whisked  her  off  to  Tommy's  chambers  at  the  corner 
of  a  street  looking  over  St.  James's  Square.  She 
left  the  cab  at  the  door  and  went  in.  Here,  anyhow, 
she  was  in  great  hopes  of  escaping  the  atmosphere 
of  worry. 

Tommy  was  a  prosperous  man,  enjoying  a  very 
good  practice  as  a  solicitor  in  the  City;  his  business 
was  of  a  high  class  and  yet  decidedly  lucrative.  Peggy 
liked  his  rooms,  with  their  quiet  luxury  and  their  hint 
of  artistic  taste  carefully  unemphasized.  She  threw 
herself  into  a  large  arm-chair  and  waited  for  Tommy 
to  appear.  There  was  a  small  room  where  he  some- 
times worked  an  hour  or  so  after  he  came  home  in 
the  evenings,  and  there  she  supposed  him  to  be;  it 
was  shut  off  by  an  interior  door  from  the  room  where 
she  sat,  and  opened  on  the  passage  by  another  which 
she  had  passed  on  her  way  in.  The  servant  had  told 
her  that  Mr.  Trent  was  engaged  for  the  moment,  but 
would  soon  be  free.  Peggy  hoped  that  it  would  turn 

153 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

out  that  he  was  free  for  the  evening,  too ;  a  little  din- 
ner would  be  restful,  and  she  had  no  engagement  that 
she  considered  it  necessary  to  keep. 

There  was  a  murmur  of  voices  through  the  door. 
Peggy  recognized  Tommy's ;  it  sounded  familiar  and 
soothing  as  she  read  a  paper  to  while  away  the  time; 
the  other  voice  was  strange  to  her.  Presently  there 
was  the  noise  of  chairs  being  pushed  back,  as  though 
the  interview  were  coming  to  a  close.  Tommy  spoke 
again,  in  a  louder  voice. 

"Mr.  Newton  doesn't  want  his  name  mentioned." 

"We  should  have  liked  the  support  of  Mr.  Airey 
Newton's  name." 

"  He  won't  hear  of  that,  but  he  believes  in  his  process 
thoroughly — " 

"I  wonder  if  I  ought  to  be  hearing  this!"  thought 
Peggy,  amused  and  rather  interested  at  stumbling  on 
her  friends,  so  to  speak,  in  their  business  hours  and 
their  business  affairs. 

Tommy  Trent's  voice  went  on: 

"And  will  take  a  fifth  share  in  the  syndicate — 
five  thousand  pounds." 

"Is  he  prepared  to  put  that  down  immediately?" 
The  question  sounded  sceptical. 

"Oh  yes,  twice  as  much;  to-morrow,  if  necessary. 
But  no  mention  of  his  name,  please.  That's  all  set- 
tled, then?  Well,  good-bye,  Mr.  Ferguson.  Glad  the 
thing  looks  so  good.  Hope  your  wife's  well.  Good- 
bye." 

The  passage  door  was  opened  and  shut.  Peggy 
heard  Tommy  come  back  from  it,  whistling  in  a  soft 
and  contented  manner.  The  passage  door  opened 
again,  and  the  servant's  voice  was  audible. 

"  Miss  Ryle  there?    I'll  go  in  directly,"  said  Tommy. 

The  paper  had  fallen  from  Peggy's  hands.  Five 

154 


THE    MIXTURE    AS    BEFORE 

thousand  pounds!  Twice  as  much  to-morrow,  if 
necessary!  Airey  Newton!  No  other  Newton,  but 
Airey,  Airey!  The  stranger  had  actually  said 
"Airey"!  Her  thoughts  flew  back  to  her  talk  with 
Airey — and,  further  back,  to  how  Tommy  Trent  had 
made  him  give  a  dinner.  And  on  that  account  she 
had  quarrelled  with  Tommy!  Everything  fitted  in 
now.  The  puzzle  that  had  bewildered  her  in  Danes 
Inn  that  very  afternoon  was  solved.  Perceiving  the 
solution  with  merciless  clearness,  Peggy  Ryle  felt  that 
she  must  cry.  It  was  such  hypocrisy,  such  mean- 
ness, nay,  such  treachery.  "  I  don't  want  to  sail  un- 
der false  colors,"  he  had  said,  and  used  that  seem- 
ingly honest  speech  and  others  like  it  to  make  his 
wretched  secret  more  secure.  Now  the  safe  took  its 
true  place  in  the  picture;  a  pretty  bad  place  it  was; 
she  doubted  not  that  the  red  book  was  in  the  unholy 
business  too.  And  the  bread-and-butter !  Peggy  must 
be  pardoned  her  bitterness  of  spirit.  To  think  of  the 
unstinted  gratitude,  the  tender  sentiment,  which  she 
had  lavished  on  that  bread-and-butter!  She  had 
thought  of  it  as  of  St.  Martin's  cloak  or  any  other 
classical  case  of  self-sacrificing  charity.  And — worse, 
if  possible — she  had  eaten  the  dinner,  too,  a  dinner 
that  came  from  a  grudging  hand.  She  had  fled  to 
Tommy  Trent's  to  escape  worry.  Worse  than  worry 
was  here.  With  rather  more  justification  than  young 
folks  always  possess,  she  felt  herself  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  tragedy;  that  there  was  any  comedy  about 
also  was  more  likely  to  strike  a  looker-on  from  out- 
side. 

"Sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting,  Peggy/'  said 
Tommy,  cheerfully,  coming  in  from  the .  other  room. 
"I  had  a  man  on  business,  and  Wilson  didn't  tell  me 
you  were  here." 

155 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Peggy  rose  to  her  feet;  a  tear  trickled  down  her 
cheek. 

" Hullo!     What's  the  matter?    Are  you  in  trouble?" 

"I  overheard  you  through  the  door." 

"What?" 

"Just  at  the  end  you  raised  your  voice." 

"And  you  listened?"  Tommy  was  rather  reproach- 
ful, but  it  did  not  seem  to  strike  him  what  had  happened 
yet. 

"I  heard  what  you  said  about  Airey  Newton." 

Tommy  gave  a  low  whistle ;  a  look  of  perplexity,  not 
unmixed  with  amusement,  spread  over  his  face. 

"The  deuce  you  did!"  he  remarked,  slowly. 

"That's  what's  the  matter;  that's  why  I'm  nearly 
crying." 

"  I  don't  see  it  in  that  light,  but  I'm  sorry  you  heard. 
It's  a  secret  that  Airey — " 

"A  secret!  Yes,  I  should  think  it  was.  Are  you 
anything  that  I  don't  know  of?  I  mean  a  burglar, 
or  a  swindler,  or  anything  of  that  kind?" 

"You  do  know  that  I'm  a  solicitor?"  Tommy 
wanted  to  relieve  the  strain  of  the  conversation. 

"I  meant  to  stay  with  you,  and  perhaps  to  take 
you  out  to  dinner — " 

"Well,  why  won't  you?  I  haven't  done  anything 
— except  forget  that  it's  not  wise  to  talk  too  loudly 
about  my  clients'  business." 

"I'm  just  going  to  Danes  Inn  to  see  Airey  Newton." 

"Oh!"  Tommy  nodded  gravely.  "You  think  of 
doing  that?" 

"  It's  what  I'm  going  to  do  directly.  I've  a  hansom 
at  the  door." 

"I'm  sure  you've  a  hansom  at  the  door,"  agreed 
Tommy.  "Sit  down  one  minute,  please,"  he  added. 
"I  want  you  to  do  something  for  me." 

156 


THE    MIXTURE    AS   BEFORE 

"  Be  quick  then,"  commanded  Peggy,  sitting  down, 
but  obviously  under  protest.  "And  you  have  done 
something,  too,"  she  went  on.  "You've  connived  at 
it.  You've  backed  him  up.  You've  helped  to  deceive 
us  all.  You've  listened  to  me  while  I  praised  him. 
You've  praised  him  yourself." 

"I  told  you  he  could  afford  to  give  the  dinner." 

"  Yes — as  he  told  me  to-day  that  he  wasn't  a  pauper ! 
He  made  me  think  I'd  hurt  his  feelings.  I  felt  wretched. 
I  begged  him  to  forgive  me.  Oh,  but  it's  not  that! 
Tommy,  it's  the  wretched  meanness  of  it  all !  He  was 
just  one  of  the  six  or  seven  people  in  the  world; 
and  now — " 

Tommy  was  smoking,  and  had  fallen  into  medi- 
tative silence. 

He  did  not  lack  understanding  of  her  feelings — 
anything  she  felt  was  always  vivid  to  him — and  on 
his  own  account  he  was  no  stranger  to  the  thoughts 
that  Airey  Newton's  propensity  bred. 

"How  much  money  has  he  got?"  she  asked,  ab- 
ruptly. 

"I  mustn't  tell  you." 

"More  than  what  you  said  to  that  man?" 

"Yes,  more." 

"A  lot  more?" 

Tommy  spread  out  his  hands  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  She  knew  all  that  mattered ;  it  was  merely 
etiquette  that  forbade  an  exact  statement  of  figures; 
the  essential  harm  was  done. 

"Well,  you  said  you  wanted  something  of  me, 
Tommy." 

"  I  do.  I  wrant  your  word  of  honor  that  you'll  never 
let  Airey  Newton  know  that  you've  found  out  any- 
thing about  this."  He  put  his  cigarette  back  into 
his  mouth  and  smiled  amicably  at  Peggy. 

157 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"I'm  going  straight  to  him  to  tell  him  I  know  it  all. 
After  that  I  sha'n't  go  any  more." 

"Peggy,  he's  very  fond  of  you.  He'll  hate  your 
knowing  more  than  anybody  else's  in  the  world  al- 
most." 

"I  shall  tell  him  you're  not  to  blame,  of  course." 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  that.  He's  been  very  kind 
to  you.  There  was  always  bread-and-butter!" 

This  particular  appeal  miscarried;  a  subtlety  of  re- 
sentment centred  on  the  bread-and-butter. 

"  I  hate  to  think  of  it,"  said  Peggy,  brusquely.  "  Do 
you  really  mean  I'm  to  say  nothing?" 

"I  mean  much  more.  You're  still  to  be  his  friend, 
still  to  go  and  see  him,  still  to  eat  bread-and-butter. 
And,  Peggy,  you're  still  to  love  him — to  love  him 
as  I  do." 

Peggy  looked  across  at  him,  and  looked  with  new 
eyes.  He  had  been  the  dear  friend  of  many  sunny 
hours;  but  now  he  wore  a  look  and  spoke  in  tones 
that  the  sunny  hours  had  not  called  forth. 

"I  stand  by  him,  whatever  happens,  and  I  want 
you  to  stand  by  him,  too." 

"  If  it  came  to  the  point,  you'd  stand  by  him  and  let 
me  go?"  she  asked,  with  a  sudden,  quick  understand- 
ing of  his  meaning. 

"Yes,"  said  Tommy,  simply.  He  did  not  tell  her 
there  would  be  any  sacrifice  in  what  she  suggested. 

"I  don't  believe  I  can  do  it,"  moaned  Peggy. 

"  Yes,  you  can.  Be  just  the  same  to  him,  only — only 
rather  nicer,  you  know.  There's  only  one  chance  for 
him,  you  see." 

"Is  there  any  chance?"  she  asked,  dolefully.  Her 
eyes  met  his.  "  Yes,  perhaps  I  know  what  you  mean," 
said  she. 

They  were  silent  a  moment.  Then  he  came  over 

158 


THE    MIXTURE   AS   BEFORE 

to  her  and  took  her  hand.  "  Word  of  honor,  Peggy/' 
he  said,  "to  let  neither  Airey  himself  nor  any  of  the 
rest  know?  You  must  connive,  as  I  did." 

She  turned  her  eyes  up  to  his  in  their  clouded  bright- 
ness. "  I  promise,  word  of  honor,  Tommy,"  said  she. 

He  nodded  in  a  friendly  way  and  strolled  off  to 
the  writing-table.  She  wandered  to  the  window  and 
looked  out  on  the  spacious,  solid  old  square.  The 
summer  evening  was  bright  and  clear,  but  Peggy 
was  sad  that  there  were  things  in  the  world  hard  to 
endure.  Yet  there  were  other  things,  too ;  down  in 
her  heart  was  a  deep  joy  because  to-day,  although 
she  had  lost  a  dear  illusion,  she  had  found  a  new 
treasure-house. 

"I'm  thinking  some  things  about  you,  Tommy, 
you  know,"  she  said,  without  turning  round.  There 
was  a  little  catch  in  her  voice. 

"That's  all  right.  Just  let  me  write  a  letter,  and 
we'll  go  and  dine." 

She  stood  still  till  he  rose  and  turned  to  see  her  head 
outlined  against  the  window.  For  a  moment  he  re- 
garded it  in  silence,  thinking  of  the  grace  she  carried 
with  her,  how  she  seemed  unable  to  live  with  mean- 
ness, and  how  for  love's  sake  she  would  face  it  now, 
and,  if  it  might  be,  heal  it  by  being  one  of  those  who 
loved.  He  came  softly  behind  her,  but  she  turned  to 
meet  him. 

"I  suppose  we  must  all  cry  sometimes,  Tommy. 
Do  say  it  makes  the  joy  better!" 

"They  always  tell  you  that!"     He  laughed,  gently. 

"I  came  here  to  laugh  with  you,  but  now — " 

"  Laughter's  the  second  course  to-day,"  said  Tommy 
Trent. 

It  came  then.  He  saw  it  suddenly  born  in  her  eyes 
and  marked  its  assault  on  the  lines  of  her  lips.  She 

159 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

struggled  conscientiously,  thinking,  no  doubt,  that 
it  was  a  shame  to  laugh.  Tommy  waited  eagerly 
for  the  victory  of  mirth,  or  even  that  it  might,  in  a 
general  rout,  save  its  guns  and  ammunition,  and  be 
ready  to  come  into  action  another  day.  He  had  his 
hope.  Peggy's  low,  rich  laugh  came,  against  her 
will,  but  not  to  be  denied. 

"At  any  rate,  I  show  him  the  better  way!  I  drew 
another  fifty  pounds  to-day.  And  he  hates  it — oh,  he 
hates  it,  Tommy!" 

He  laughed  too,  saying,  "Let's  go  out  and  play." 

As  they  went  down  -  stairs  she  thrust  her  hand 
through  his  arm  and  kept  patting  him  gently.  Then 
she  looked  up,  and  swiftly  down  again,  and  laughed  a 
little  and  patted  him  again. 

"I've  half  a  mind  to  sing,"  said  she. 

The  afternoon  had  been  a  bottle  of  the  old  mixture 
— laughter  and  tears,. 


HOT  HEADS  AND  COOL 

THERE  being  in  London  (as  Trix  had  once  observed) 
many  cities,  if  they  persecute  you  in  one  you  can 
flee  unto  another,  with  the  reasonable  certainty  of  find- 
ing an  equally  good  dinner,  company  perhaps  on  the 
whole  not  less  entertaining,  and  a  welcome  warmer  for 
the  novelty  of  seeing  you.  With  these  consolations  a 
philosophic  fugitive  should  be  content. 

But  Beaufort  Chance  had  not  learned  this  lesson, 
and  did  not  take  to  the  study  of  it  cheerfully^  He 
was,  indeed,  not  cut  by  his  old  friends — things  had 
not  been  quite  definite  enough  for  that  —  but  he  was 
gradually  left  out  of  a  good  many  affairs  to  which 
he  had  been  accustomed  to  be  a  party,  and  he  was 
conscious  that,  where  he  was  still  bidden,  it  was  from 
good-nature  or  the  dislike  of  making  a  fuss,  not  from 
any  great  desire  for  his  company.  He  was  indifferent- 
ly comforted  by  the  proffered  embraces  of  that  other 
city  which  may  be  said  to  have  had  its  centre  in 
Mrs.  Pricker's  spacious  mansion.  The  Prickers  had 
an  insight  into  his  feelings,  and  the  women  at  least 
made  every  effort  to  win  his  regard  as  well  as  to  secure 
his  presence.  Pricker  let  matters  go  their  own  way; 
he  was  a  man  wise  in  observing  the  trend  of  events. 
He  found  it  enough  to  put  Chance  into  one  or  two  busi- 
ness ventures,  against  which  there  was  nothing  much 
to  be  said;  he  did  not  want  to  damage  Chance's  rep- 
»  161 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

utation  any  more,  since  his  value  would  be  diminished 
thereby. 

The  man  knew  that  he  had  sunk  and  was  sinking 
still.  The  riches  for  which  he  had  risked  and  lost 
so  much  might  still  be  his,  probably  more  easily  than 
at  any  previous  time.  Nothing  else  was  before  him, 
if  once  he  allowed  himself  to  become  an  associate  of 
Pricker's  in  business,  a  friend  of  the  family  at  Pricker's 
house.  Such  a  position  as  that  would  stamp  him. 
It  was  consistent  with  many  good  things;  it  might 
not  prevent  some  influence  and  a  good  deal  of  power, 
or  plenty  of  deference  of  a  certain  sort  from  certain 
people.  But  it  denned  his  class.  Men  of  the  world 
would  know  how  to  place  him,  and  women  would  not 
be  behind  them  in  perception.  He  saw  all  this,  but  he 
did  not  escape.  Perhaps  there  was  nowhere  to  escape 
to.  There  was  another  reason.  He  had  encountered 
a  very  vigorous  will,  and  that  will  was  determined 
that  he  should  stay.  His  name  was  a  little  blown 
upon,  no  doubt,  but  it  was  a  good  name;  he  was  M.P. 
still ;  he  might  one  day  inherit  a  peerage — not  of  the 
ultra-grand  Barmouth  order,  of  course,  but  a  peerage 
all  the  same.  The  will  was  associated  with  a  clear 
and  measured  judgment,  and  in  obedience  to  the  judg- 
ment the  will  meant  to  hold  fast  to  Beaufort  Chance. 

He  himself  realized  this  side  of  the  matter  less  clear- 
ly than  he  saw  the  rest.  He  knew  that  the  business 
association  and  the  dinners  bound  him  more  and  more 
tightly;  he  had  not  understood  yet  that  his  flirtation 
with  Connie  Pricker  was  likely  to  commit  him  in  an 
even  more  irrevocable  and  wholesale  way.  In  this 
Miss  Connie  was  clever ;  she  let  an  air  of  irresponsibility 
soften  his  attention  into  a  mere  pastime,  though  she 
was  careful  to  let  nothing  more  palpable  confirm  the 
impression.  She  made  no  haste  to  enlist  her  mother's 

162 


HOT    HEADS    AND    COOL 

aid  or  to  invoke  a  father  primed  with  decisive  ques- 
tions. She  had  attractions  for  Beaufort  Chance,  a 
man  over  whom  obvious  attractions  exercised  their 
full  force.  She  let  them  have  their  way.  She  liked 
him,  and  she  liked  being  flirted  with.  The  cool  head 
was  quite  unseen,  far  in  the  background;  but  it  was 
preparing  a  very  strong  position  whenever  its  owner 
liked  to  fall  back  there. 

Beaufort  Chance,  misled  by  the  air  of  irresponsibility, 
kissed  and  laughed,  as  many  men  do  under  such  cir- 
cumstances ;  Connie  was  not  critical  of  the  quality 
of  kisses,  and  the  laughter  was  to  go  on  just  so  long 
as  she  pleased.  It  was  among  the  visions  which 
inspire  rather  than  dissipate  the  energy  of  strong 
natures,  when  Connie  Fricker  saw  herself,  now  be- 
come Beaufort's  wife  and  perhaps  my  lady,  throwing 
a  supercilious  bow  to  Mrs.  Trevalla  as  that  lady  trudged 
down  Regent  Street,  seeking  bargains  in  the  shops 
and  laden  with  brown-paper  parcels  containing  the 
same.  Such  a  turn  of  fortune  as  would  realize  this 
piquant  picture  was  still  possible,  notwithstanding 
Trix's  present  triumph. 

There  were  dangers.  If  Mrs.  Fricker,  with  that 
strict  sense  of  propriety  of  hers  and  her  theory  of  its 
necessity  for  social  progress,  came  round  a  corner  at 
the  wrong  moment,  there  would  be  a  bad  half-hour, 
and  (worse  still)  the  necessity  for  a  premature  divulg- 
ing of  plans.  Those  plans  Mrs.  Fricker  would  man- 
age to  bungle  and  spoil ;  this  was,  at  least,  her  daugh- 
ter's unwavering  conviction.  So  Connie  was  cautious, 
and  urged  Beaufort  to  caution.  She  smiled  to  see 
how  readily  he  owned  the  advisability  of  extreme 
caution.  He  did  not  want  to  be  caught,  any  more 
than  she.  She  knew  the  reason  of  his  wish  as  well 
as  of  her  own.  She  played  her  hand  well  and  is  en- 

163 


THE   INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

titled  to  applause — subject  to  the  accepted  reserva- 
tions. 

Meanwhile  delenda  erat  Trix.  That  was  well  un- 
derstood in  the  family,  and  again  between  the  fami- 
ly and  Beaufort  Chance.  The  ladies  hinted  at  it; 
Pricker's  quiet  smile  was  an  endorsement ;  every  echo 
of  Trix's  grandeur  and  triumph — far  more,  any  distant 
glimpse  obtained  of  them  in  actual  progress — strength- 
ened the  resolution  and  enhanced  the  pleasure  of 
the  prospect.  Censure  without  sympathy  is  seldom 
right.  At  last  Trix  had,  under  irresistible  pressure, 
obeyed  Mervyn  to  the  full.  She  saw  no  more  of  the 
Prickers;  she  wrote  only  on  business  to  Mr.  Pricker. 
The  Pricker  attitude  cannot  be  called  surprising;  the 
epithet  is  more  appropriate  to  Trix  Trevalla's,  even 
though  it  be  remembered  that  she  regarded  it  as  only 
temporary — just  till  she  was  well  out  of  Glowing  Stars. 
She  pleaded  that  her  engagement  kept  her  so  busy. 
Other  people  could  be  busy,  too. 

Lady  Blix worth's  doors  were  still  open  to  Beaufort 
Chance,  and  there,  one  evening,  he  saw  Trix  in  her 
splendor.  Mervyn  was  in  attendance  on  her ;  the  Bar- 
mouths  were  not  far  off,  and  were  receiving  congratula- 
tions most  amiably.  In  these  days  Trix's  beauty  had 
an  animation  and  expressed  an  excitement  that  gave 
her  an  added  brilliance,  though  they  might  not  speak 
of  perfect  happiness.  Lady  Blixworth  was  enjoying  a 
respite  from  duty,  and  had  sunk  into  a  chair ;  Beaufort 
stood  by  her.  He  could  not  keep  his  eyes  from  Trix. 

"  Now  I  wonder,"  said  Lady  Blixworth,  with  her 
gentle  deliberation,  "what  you're  thinking  about, 
Beaufort!  Am  I  very  penetrating,  or  very  ignorant, 
or  just  merely  commonplace,  in  guessing  that  Trix 
Tre valla  would  do  well  to  avoid  you  if  you  had  a  pistol 
in  your  hand?" 

164 


HOT    HEADS    AND    COOL 

"You  aren't  penetrating/'  said  he.  She  had  stood 
by  him,  so  he  endured  her  impertinence,  but  he  en- 
dured it  badly. 

"You  don't  want  to  kill  her?"  she  smiled.  "That 
would  be  too  gentle?  Oh,  I'm  only  joking,  of  course." 
This  excuse  was  a  frequent  accompaniment  of  her 
most  pointed  suggestions. 

"She'll  have  a  pretty  dull  time  with  Mervyn,"  he 
said,  with  a  laugh. 

"  I  suppose  that  idea  always  does  console  the  other 
men?  In  this  case  quite  properly,  I  agree.  She  will, 
Beaufort,  you  may  depend  on  that."  Her  thoughts 
had  gone  back  to  that  Sunday  at  Barslett. 

Glentorly  came  up  the  stairs.  She  greeted  him 
without  rising;  his  bow  to  Beaufort  Chance  was  al- 
most invisible;  he  went  straight  across  to  Trix  and 
Mervyn.  Lady  Blixworth  cast  an  amused  glance  at 
her  companion's  lowering  face. 

"Why  don't  you  go  and  congratulate  her?"  she 
asked.  "I  don't  believe  you  ever  have." 

"I suppose  I  ought  to,"  he  said,  meeting  her  mali- 
cious look  with  a  deliberate  smile. 

A  glint  of  aroused  interest  came  into  her  eyes. 
Would  he  have  the  courage? 

"Well,  you  can  hardly  interrupt  her  while  she's 
with  Mortimer  and  George  Glentorly." 

"Can't  I?"  he  asked,  with  a  laugh.  "Sit  here  and 
you  shall  see." 

"  I'd  no  idea  it  could  be  amusing  in  my  own  house," 
smiled  Lady  Blixworth.  "Well,  I'm  sitting  here!" 

What  he  saw  had  roused  Beaufort's  fury  again. 
Everything  helped  to  that — the  sight  of  Trix,  Mervyn's 
airs  of  ownership  and  lofty  appropriation  of  her,  the 
pompous  smiles  of  the  Barmouths  ;  most  of  all,  perhaps, 
that  small  matter  of  Lord  Glentorly's  invisible  bow. 

165 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

And  he  himself  was  there  on  the  good-natured  but 
contemptuous  sufferance  of  his  old  friend  and  mali- 
cious mocker,  Lady  Blix worth.  But  he  had  a  whip; 
he  was  minded  at  least  to  crack  it  over  Trix  Tre- 
valla. 

She  was  standing  by  the  two  men,  but  they  had 
entered  into  conversation  with  each  other,  and  for  the 
moment  she  was  idle.  Her  eyes,  travelling  round 
the  room,  fell  on  Beaufort  Chance.  She  flushed, 
gave  him  a  hurried  bow,  and  glanced  in  rapid  appre- 
hension at  Mervyn.  He  and  Glentorly  were  busy 
agreeing  that  they  were,  jointly  and  severally,  quite 
entitled  to  be  relied  on  by  the  country,  and  Mervyn 
saw  nothing.  Trix's  bow  gave  Beaufort  Chance 
his  excuse.  Without  more  ado  he  walked  straight 
and  boldly  across  the  room  to  her.  Still  the  other 
two  men  did  not  see  him.  Trix  edged  a  pace  away 
from  them  and  waited  his  coming;  she  was  in  as  sore 
fear  as  when  he  had  snatched  her  letter  from  her  in 
her  drawing-room.  Her  breath  came  fast;  she  held 
her  head  high. 

"  You  must  let  an  old  friend  congratulate  you,  Mrs. 
Trevalla,"  said  Beaufort.  He  spoke  low  and  smiled 
complacently  as  he  held  out  his  hand. 

Trix  hated  to  take  it;  she  took  it  very  graciously, 
with  murmured  thanks.  She  shot  an  appealing  glance 
past  him  towards  where  her  hostess  sat.  Lady  Blix- 
worth  smiled  back,  but  did  not  move  an  inch. 

"Though  your  old  friends  have  seen  very  little  of 
you  lately." 

"  People  in  my  position  must  have  allowances  made 
for  them,  Mr.  Chance." 

"Oh  yes.  I  wasn't  complaining,  only  regretting. 
Seen  anything  of  our  friends  the  Prickers  lately?" 

The  question  was  a  danger-signal  to  Trix.  He  was 

166 


HOT    HEADS    AND    COOL 

prepared  to  pose  as  the  Prickers'  friend  if  only  he  could 
tar  her  with  the  same  brush ;  that  boded  mischief. 

Pricker's  name  caught  Lord  Glentorly's  ear;  he 
glanced  round.  Mervyn  still  noticed  nothing. 

"I  haven't  seen  them  for  a  long  while,"  answered 
Trix,  in  steady  tones,  her  eyes  defying  him. 

He  waited  a  moment ;  then  he  went  on,  raising  his 
voice  a  little : 

"  You  must  have  heard  from  Pricker,  anyhow,  if  not 
from  the  ladies?  He  told  me  he'd  written  to  you." 

Mervyn  turned  round  sharply.  Emerging  from 
the  enumeration  of  the  strong  points  of  his  chief  and 
himself,  he  had  been  conscious  that  a  man  was  talking 
to  Trix  and  saying  that  some  other  man  had  written 
to  her.  He  looked  questioningly  at  Glentorly;  that 
statesman  seemed  somewhat  at  a  loss. 

"Yes,"  Chance  went  on.  "Pricker  said  he'd  been 
in  correspondence  with  you  about  that  little  venture 
you're  in  together.  I  hope  it  '11  turn  up  trumps,  though 
it's  a  bit  of  a  risk,  in  my  opinion.  But  it's  too  bad  to 
remind  you  of  business  here." 

Mervyn  stepped  forward  suddenly. 

"  If  you've  any  business  with  Mrs.  Trevalla,  perhaps 
sne'll  avail  herself  of  my  help,"  he  said;  "although 
hardly  at  the  present  moment  or  here." 

Beaufort  Chance  laughed.  "Dear  me,  no,"  he 
answered.  "We've  no  business,  have  we,  Mrs. 
Trevalla?  I  was  only  joking  about  a  little  flutter 
Mrs.  Trevalla  has  on  under  the  auspices  of  our  com- 
mon friend — Pricker,  you  know." 

"  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing  Mr.  Pricker," 
said  Mervyn,  coldly. 

"He's  at  a  disadvantage  compared  with  us,  isn't 
he,  Mrs.  Trevalla?" 

Mervyn  turned  from  him  in  a  distaste  that  he  took 

167 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

no  pains  to  conceal,  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  Trix's  face. 
Was  it  possible — really  possible — that  she  could  be 
charged  with  having  "a  flutter"  under  the  auspices 
of  Fricker,  and  stand  dumb  under  the  accusation? 

Trix  laughed  nervously  and  at  last  managed  to 
speak. 

"  That's  all  very  ancient  history,  Mr.  Chance.  You 
should  have  your  gossip  more  up  to  .date." 

"  Then  you've  sold  your  Glowing  Stars?"  he  retorted, 
quickly.  He  desired  the  pleasure  of  making  her  lie 
and  of  knowing  the  degradation  that  she  felt. 

There  was  just  an  instant's  pause.  Then  Lord 
Glentorly  struck  in. 

"I  don't  know  whether  all  this  is  your  business," 
he  said  to  Beaufort,  "  but  I  do  know  it  isn't  mine.  If 
Mrs.  Trevalla  allows,  we'll  drop  the  subject." 

"It's  very  dull, anyhow,"  stammered  Trix. 

"  I  touched  on  it  quite  accidentally,"  smiled  Beaufort. 
"Well,  all  good  wishes  again,  Mrs.  Trevalla." 

With  a  bow  of  insolent  familiarity  he  turned  on  his 
heel  and  began  to  walk  back  towards  Lady  Blixworth. 
After  a  moment's  hesitation  Mervyn  followed  him. 
Trix  darted  to  Glentorly. 

"Take  me  somewhere,"  she  whispered.  "Take  me 
away  somewhere  for  a  minute." 

"Away  from  that  fellow,  yes,"  he  agreed,  with  a  dis- 
gusted air. 

Trix  seemed  to  hear  him  imperfectly.  "Yes,  yes, 
away  from  Mortimer,"  she  whispered. 

The  swiftest  glance  betrayed  Glentorly 's  surprise 
as  he  obeyed  her;  she  put  her  arm  in  his  and  he  led 
her  into  the  next  room,  where  a  sideboard  with  re- 
freshments stood. 

"What  does  the  fellow  mean?"  he  asked,  scorn- 
fully. 

168 


HOT    HEADS    AND    COOL 

"It's  nothing.  Give  me  a  little  champagne,"  said 
Trix. 

Beaufort  Chance  lounged  up  to  Lady  Blixworth. 

"Well,  you  saw  me  making  myself  pleasant?" 
His  manner  was  full  of  a  rude,  coarse  exultation. 

Lady  Blixworth  put  up  her  long-handled  pince-nez 
and  regarded  him  through  it. 

"She  hasn't  quite  cut  me,  you  see,"  he  went  on. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Chance.  May  I  have  a  word 
with  you?"  Mervyn  came  up  and  joined  them. 

Lady  Blixworth  leaned  back  and  looked  at  the  pair. 
She  had  never  thought  Mervyn  a  genius,  and  she 
was  very  tolerant;  but  she  had  at  that  moment  the 
fullest  possible  realization  of  the  difference  between 
the  two:  it  was  between  barbarism  and  civilization. 
Both  might  be  stupid,  both  might  on  occasion  be  cruel. 
But  there  was  the  profound  difference  of  method. 

"A  word  with  me,  Mervyn?    Of  course." 

"By  ourselves,  I  mean."  His  stiffness  vigorously 
refused  the  approaches  of  Beaufort's  familiarity. 

"Oh,  all  right,  by  ourselves,"  agreed  Beaufort,  with 
a  contemptuous  laugh. 

Lady  Blixworth  decided  not  to  indulge  her  humor 
any  longer ;  she  was  distrustful  of  what  might  happen. 

"  You  can  have  your  talk  any  time,"  she  said,  rising. 
She  spoke  carelessly,  but  she  knew  how  to  assert  her 
right  to  social  command  in  her  own  house.  "Just 
now  I  want  Mortimer  to  take  me  to  have  something 
cool.  Good-night,  Beaufort. "  She  gave  him  her  hand. 
He  took  it,  not  seeing  what  else  to  do.  Mervyn  had 
fallen  back  a  step  as  his  bow  acknowledged  the  host- 
ess's command. 

"Good-night,  Beaufort,"  said  Lady  Blixworth, 
smiling  again. 

She  left  him  there,  and  walked  off  with  Mervyn. 
169 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

"  If  you  must  talk  to  him,  wait/'  she  advised,  laugh- 
ing. "Or  write  to  him — that's  better.  Or  let  it  alone 
— that's  best  of  all.  But,  at  any  rate,  I  don't  want 
what  the  papers  call  a  fracas,  and  I  call  a  shindy,  in 
my  house.  With  your  people  here,  too!"  The  Bar- 
mouths'  presence  would  make  a  shindy  seem  like  sac- 
rilege. 

"You're  quite  right,"  he  said,  gravely. 

She  glanced  at  him  in  pity  and  in  ridicule.  "  Heav- 
ens, how  you  take  things,  Mortimer!"  she  murmured. 
"You  might  have  seen  that  he  only  wanted  to  be 
nasty." 

"He  shall  have  no  more  opportunities  of  obtruding 
himself  on  Trix." 

"Poor  Trix!"  sighed  Lady  Blixworth.  It  was  not 
quite  clear  what  especial  feature  of  Trix's  position  she 
was  commiserating. 

"I  shall  speak  plainly  to  him." 

"That's  just  why  I  wouldn't  let  it  occur  in  my 
house." 

"Why  do  you  have  him  here?" 

"I  believe  that  in  the  end  it's  through  a  conscious- 
ness of  my  own  imperfections."  She  felt  for  and  with 
her  companion,  but  she  could  not  help  chaffing  him 
again.  "He's  had  rather  hard  lines,  too,  you  know." 

"He's  not  had  half  what  he's  deserved.  I  want 
to  see  Trix." 

"Oh,  put  that  off,  too!"  She  had  sighted  Trix  and 
Glentorly,  and  a  dexterous  pressure  of  her  arm  headed 
him  in  the  opposite  direction.  "You  must  feed  me 
first,  anyhow,"  she  insisted. 

Understanding  that  he  had  been  in  effect  dismissed 
from  the  house,  knowing  at  least  that  with  his  hostess's 
countenance  withdrawn  from  him  he  would  find  lit- 
tle comfort  there,  Beaufort  Chance  took  his  departure. 

170 


HOT    HEADS    AND    COOL 

His  mood  was  savage:  he  had  gratified  revenge  at 
the  cost  of  lowering  himself  further;  if  he  had  done 
his  best  to  ruin  Trix,  he  had  done  something  more 
for  himself  in  the  same  direction.  Yet  he  had  en- 
joyed the  doing  of  it.  A  savage  triumph  struggled 
with  the  soreness  in  him.  He  had  come  back  to  Lady 
Blixworth  to  boast  to  her;  Mervyn  had  spoiled  that 
scheme.  He  felt  the  need  of  recounting  his  exploit  to 
somebody  who  would  see  the  glory  of  it.  Connie 
Flicker  had  told  him  that  they  were  going  to  the  opera, 
and  that  she  supposed  there  would  be  some  supper  af- 
terwards, if  he  liked  to  drop  in.  Almost  unconsciously 
his  steps  turned  towards  the  house. 

Luck  favored  him,  or  so  he  thought.  Fricker  and 
his  wife  had  been  dropped  at  a  party  on  the  way  home ; 
Connie  had  no  card  for  it,  and  was  now  waiting  for 
them  alone — or,  rather,  was  using  her  time  in  con- 
suming chicken  and  champagne.  He  joined  in  her 
meal,  and  did  full  justice  to  one  ingredient  of  it  at  least. 
With  his  glass  in  his  hand  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
and  began  to  tell  her  how  he  had  served  Trix  Trevalla. 
Whatever  the  reality  might  have  been,  there  was  no 
doubt  who  came  out  triumphant  in  the  narrative. 

Connie  had  finished  her  chicken.  She  leaned  her 
plump,  bare  arms  on  the  table  and  fixed  applauding 
eyes  on  him. 

"Splendid!"  she  said,  with  a  glint  of  teeth.  "I 
should  love  to  have  seen  that." 

"I  gave  her  a  bit  more  than  she  reckoned  on,"  he 
said,  lighting  his  cigar  and  then  tossing  off  the  last 
of  his  glass  of  wine.  "I  gave  it  her  straight."  He 
looked  across  at  Connie.  "That's  the  only  way  with 
women,"  he  told  her. 

Miss  Connie  mingled  admiration  and  a  playful  de- 
fiance in  her  smile.  "You  ought  to  have  married 

171 


THE   INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

her,  then  you'd   have  had  your    chance/'   she   sug- 
gested. 

"Precious  glad  I  didn't!"  said  Beaufort.  "Good  for 
her,  but  poor  fun  for  me,  Connie." 

Connie  got  up  and  came  round  the  table.  "You're 
spilling  all  your  ash  on  the  table-cloth."  She  gave 
him  an  ash-tray  from  the  mantel-piece.  "  Use  that, 
silly,"  said  she,  patting  his  shoulder,  and  she  went  on : 
"  Any  woman  could  manage  you  all  right,  you  know. 
Oh,  I  don't  mean  a  goose  like  Trix  Trevalla,  but — " 

"A  clever  girl  like  yourself,  eh?" 

"Well,  that's  the  last  thing  I  was  thinking  about. 
Still,  as  far  as  that  goes,  I  expect  I  could." 

He  slewed  his  chair  half  round  and  looked  up  at  her. 
Her  rollicking  defiance,  with  its  skilful  hint  of  con- 
tempt, worked  on  his  mood.  He  forgot  his  daylight  re- 
luctance to  commit  himself. 

"We'd  see  about  that,  Miss  Connie,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  I  shouldn't  be  afraid!"  she  laughed.  She 
spoke  the  truth ;  she  was  not  the  least  afraid  of  Beaufort 
Chance,  though  she  was  more  than  a  little  afraid  of 
Mrs.  Fricker.  She  was,  at  the  same  time,  fully  aware 
that  Chance  would  like  to  think  that  she  was  in  her 
heart  rather  afraid;  she  gauged  him  nicely,  and  the 
bravado  of  her  declaration  was  allowed  to  be  hinted 
at  by  a  fall  and  a  turning-away  of  her  eyes.  With 
a  confident  laugh  he  slipped  his  arm  round  her  waist ; 
she  drew  away;  he  held  her  strongly. 

"Be  quiet,"  he  said,  imperiously. 

She  stood  still,  apparently  embarrassed  but  yet  obe- 
dient. 

"Why  did  you  try  to  get  away?"  he  asked,  almost 
threateningly. 

"Well,  I'm  quiet  enough  now,"  she  pleaded,  with  a 
low  laugh. 

172 


HOT    HEADS    AND    COOL 

His  self-complacency  was  restored;  the  buffets  of 
the  evening  were  forgotten.  He  remembered  how 
he  had  served  Trix  Trevalla;  he  forgot  what  that 
pleasure  had  entailed  on  himself.  Now  he  was  show- 
ing this  girl  that  she  was  no  match  for  him.  He  held 
her  in  his  grasp  while  he  smoked. 

"This  is  rather  dull  for  me/'  suggested  Connie 
after  a  while.  "I  hope  you  like  it,  Mr.  Chance?" 

"It  '11  last  just  as  long  as  I  do  like  it,"  he  told  her. 

A  bell  sounded;  they  heard  the  hall  door  opened 
and  voices  in  the  hall. 

"Listen!  Let  me  go!  No,  you  must.  It's  papa 
and  mamma." 

"Never  mind.     Stay  where  you  are." 

"What  do  you  mean?  Nonsense!  I  must — "  In 
genuine  alarm  Connie  wrenched  herself  away,  ran 
to  the  door,  listened,  gave  Beaufort  a  wise  nod,  and 
sat  down  opposite  to  him.  He  laughed  at  her  across 
the  table. 

After  a  pause  a  footman  came  in. 

"  I  was  to  tell  you  that  Mrs.  Flicker  has  gone  straight 
up-stairs,  miss.  She'd  like  to  see  you  for  a  minute 
in  her  room  when  you  go  up,  miss." 

"All  right.  Say  I'll  be  there  in  five  minutes. 
Where's  papa?" 

"Mr.  Pricker's  gone  into  the  study,  miss." 

"  We're  in  luck,"  said  Beaufort,  when  the  door  was 
closed. 

"I  must  go  in  a  minute  or  two.  I  expect  mamma 
doesn't  like  me  being  here  with  you.  It's  not  my  fault. 
I  didn't  know  you  were  coming.  I  didn't  let  you  in." 

"Of  course  it's  not  your  fault.  We'll  tell  mamma 
so." 

"I  think  you'd  better  go,"  suggested  Connie;  he 
treated  Mrs.  Fricker  with  too  much  flippancy. 

173 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"Yes,  I  will.  I'll  join  your  father  and  have  a 
whiskey  -  and  -  soda.  But  say  good -night  first,  Con- 
nie." 

"Oh,  well,  be  quick  then,"  said  Connie. 

Now,  as  it  happened,  through  an  oversight,  there 
was  no  whiskey-and-soda  in  the  study.  Mr.  Fricker 
discovered  this  disconcerting  circumstance  when  he 
had  got  into  his  smoking-jacket  and  slippers.  He 
swore  gently  and  came  up-stairs,  his  slippers  passing 
noiselessy  over  the  rich  carpets  of  his  staircase  and 
passages.  He  opened  the  door  of  the  room  and  came 
in.  To  his  amazement  his  daughter  whirled  quickly 
across  his  path,  almost  cannoning  into  him ;  and  there, 
whence  she  came,  Beaufort  Chance  stood,  looking  fool- 
ish and  awkward.  Connie  was  flushed  and  her  hair 
untidy. 

"Good-evening,  Beaufort.  I  was  looking  for  whis- 
key-and-soda, Connie  dear." 

A  few  more  remarks  were  interchanged,  but  the 
talk  came  chiefly  from  Beaufort,  and  consisted  of 
explanations  why  he  had  not  gone  before,  and  how  he 
was  just  going  now.  Then  he  did  go,  shaking  hands 
with  them  both,  not  looking  either  of  them  in  the  face. 

"You  can  find  your  own  way  down?"  Fricker  sug- 
gested, as  he  picked  a  chicken's  leg.  "Give  me  a 
little  more  soda,  Connie." 

She  obeyed  him,  and,  when  they  were  alone,  came 
and  stood  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table.  Fricker 
ate  and  drank  in  undisturbed  composure.  At  last 
he  observed : 

"I  thought  your  mother  wanted  you.  Hadn't  you 
better  go  up  to  her,  Connie?"  He  glanced  round  at 
the  clock  and  smiled  at  his  daughter  in  his  thoughtful 
way. 

"Of  course  you  can  tell  her;  but  you'll  spoil  it  all, 

174 


HOT    HEADS    AND    COOL 

if  you  do,"  Connie  burst  out.  She  seemed  ready  to 
cry,  being  sadly  put  out  by  her  father's  premature 
discovery,  and  undisguisedly  alarmed  as  to  what  view 
might  be  taken  of  the  matter. 

"Spoil  it  all?"  repeated  Fricker,  meditatively.  "All 
what?  Your  fun,  my  dear?" 

Connie  had  no  alternative  but  to  play  her  trumps. 

"It's  more  than  fun,"  she  said.  "Unless  I'm  in- 
terfered with,"  she  added,  resentfully. 

"Your  mother's  ideas  are  so  strict,"  smiled  Fricker, 
wiping  his  mouth  and  laying  aside  his  napkin.  "If 
she'd  come  in  when  I  did — eh,  Connie?"  He  shook 
his  head  and  delicately  picked  his  teeth. 

"It's  all  right  if — if  you  let  me  alone."  She  came 
round  to  him.  "I  can  take  care  of  myself,  and — " 
She  sat  on  the  arm  of  his  chair.  "It  wouldn't  be  so 
bad,  would  it?"  she  asked. 

"  Hum.  No,  perhaps  it  wouldn't/'  admitted  Fricker. 
"Do  you  like  him,  Connie?" 

"  We  should  manage  very  well,  I  think,"  she  laughed, 
feeling  easier  in  her  mind.  "But  if  you  tell  mamma 
now — " 

"We  upset  the  apple-cart,  do  we,  Connie?"  He  fell 
into  thought.  "  Might  do  worse,  and  perhaps  shouldn't 
do  much  better,  eh?" 

"  I  dare  say  not.  And  " — an  unusual  timidity  for  the 
moment  invaded  Miss  Connie's  bearing — "and  I  do 
rather  like  him,  papa." 

Fricker  had  the  family  affections,  and  to  him  his 
daughter  seemed  wellnigh  all  that  a  daughter  could 
be  expected  to  be.  She  had  her  faults,  of  course — a 
thing  not  calculated  to  surprise  Fricker  —  but  she 
was  bright,  lively,  pretty,  clever,  dutiful,  and  very 
well  behaved.  So  long  as  she  was  also  reasonable 
he  would  stretch  a  point  to  please  her;  he  would  at 

175 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

least  make  every  consideration  on  his  side  of  the  case 
weigh  as  heavily  as  possible.  He  thought  again,  re- 
viewing Beaufort  Chance  in  the  new  light. 

"Well,  run  it  for  yourself,"  he  said  at  last. 

Connie  bent  down  and  kissed  him.  She  was  blush- 
ing and  she  looked  happy. 

"Now  run  off  up-stairs." 

"You  won't  tell  mamma?" 

"Not  if  you  can  go  on  managing  it  all  right." 

Connie  kissed  him  again.  Then  she,  in  her  turn, 
looked  at  the  clock. 

"May  I  say  that  Mr.  Chance  has  been  gone  ever 
so  long,  and  that  you  made  me  stay  with  you?" 

"Yes,"  said  Fricker,  rather  amused. 

"  Good-night,  you  darling,"  cried  Connie,  and  danced 
out  of  the  room. 

"Rum  creatures!"  ejaculated  Fricker.  "She's  got  a 
head  on  her  shoulders,  though." 

On  the  whole  he  was  well  pleased.  But  he  had  the 
discernment  to  wonder  how  Beaufort  Chance  would 
feel  about  the  matter  the  next  morning.  He  chuckled 
at  this  idea  at  first,  but  presently  his  peculiar  smile 
regained  its  sway — the  same  smile  that  he  wore  when 
he  considered  the  case  of  Trix  Trevalla  and  Glowing 
Stars. 

"  What  Beaufort  thinks  of  it,"  he  concluded,  as  he 
went  up  to  bed,  "won't  be  quite  the  question." 

He  found  Mrs.  Fricker  not  at  all  displeased  with 
Connie. 


XIII 

JUSTIFICATION  NUMBER  FOUR 

TREVALLA  was  at  Barslett.  To  say 
1  that  she  was  in  prison  there  would  be  perhaps 
a  strong  expression.  To  call  her  sojourn  quarantine 
is  certainly  a  weak  one;  we  are  not  preached  at  in 
quarantine.  Mervyn  came  down  twice  a  week;  the 
Barmouths  themselves  and  Mrs.  Bonfill  completed 
the  party.  No  guests  were  invited.  Trix  was  to 
stay  a  month.  A  tenant  had  offered  for  the  flat — it 
was  let  for  the  month.  Trix  was  to  stay  at  Barslett 
with  the  Barmouths  and  Mrs.  Bonfill — a  Mrs.  Bonfill 
no  longer  indulgent  or  blinded  by  partiality — hopeful 
still,  indeed,  but  with  open  eyes,  with  a  clear  apprecia- 
tion of  dear  Trix's  failings,  possessed  by  an  earnest 
desire  to  co-operate  with  the  Barmouths  in  eradicating 
the  same. 

No  ordinary  pressure  had  brought  Trix  to  this. 
It  dated  from  Beaufort  Chance's  attack;  that  had 
rendered  her  really  defenceless.  She  remembered 
how  she  drove  away  with  the  Barmouths  and  Mervyn, 
the  ominous,  heavy  silence,  the  accusing  peck  of  a 
kiss  that  her  future  mother-in-law  gave  her  when 
they  parted.  Next  morning  came  the  interview  with 
Mervyn,  the  inevitable  interview.  She  had  to  confess 
to  prevarication  and  shuffling;  nothing  but  his  grave 
and  distressed  politeness  saved  her  the  word  "lie." 
Her  dealings  with  Fricker  were  wrung  from  her  by 

177 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

a  persistent  questioning,  a  steady  adherence  to  the 
point  that  neither  tears  nor  wiles  (she  tried  both)  could 
affect.  She  had  no  strength  left  at  the  end.  She 
wrote  to  Fricker  to  sell  her  Glowing  Stars,  to  send 
the  money  to  the  bank,  to  close  the  transaction  finally. 
She  did  not  know  where  she  would  be  left ;  she  obeyed, 
and,  broken  in  spirit,  she  consented  to  be  deported 
to  Barslett  as  soon  as  her  letter  was  posted.  Mrs. 
Bonfill  was  procured;  the  Barmouths  made  the  sacri- 
fice (the  expression  was  Lady  Barmouth's  own); 
Mervyn  arranged  to  run  down.  Never  were  more 
elaborate  or  imposing  means  taken  to  snatch  a  brand 
from  the  burning. 

Yet  only  at  Barslett  did  the  real  discipline  begin; 
from  morning  prayers  at  nine  to  evening  lemonade 
at  ten-thirty,  all  day  and  every  day,  it  seemed  to  last. 
They  did  not,  indeed,  all  belabor  her  every  day;  the 
method  was  more  scientific.  If  Lord  Barmouth  was 
affable,  it  meant  a  lecture  after  lunch  from  his  wife; 
when  Mrs.  Bonfill  relaxed  in  the  daytime,  it  foreboded 
a  serious,  affectionate  talk  with  Mervyn  in  the  evening. 
One  heavy  castigation  a  day  was  certain — that,  and 
lots  of  time  to  think  it  over,  and,  as  an  aggravation, 
full  knowledge  of  the  occurrence  manifest  in  the  rest 
of  the  company.  Who  shall  say  that  Beaufort  Chance 
had  not  taken  rich  revenge? 

Trix  tried  to  fight  sometimes,  especially  against 
Mrs.  Bonfill.  What  business  was  it  of  Mrs.  Bonfill's? 
The  struggle  was  useless.  Mrs.  Bonfill  established 
herself  firmly  in  loco  parentis.  "  You  have  no  mother, 
my  dear,"  she  would  reply,  with  a  sad  shake  of  her 
head.  The  bereavement  was  small  profit  to  poor 
Trix  under  the  circumstances.  Yet  she  held  on  with 
the  old  tenacity  that  had  carried  her  through  the  lodg- 
ing-houses, with  the  endurance  which  had  kept  her 

178 


JUSTIFICATION   NUMBER   FOUR 

alive  through  her  four  years  with  Vesey  Trevalla. 
This  state  of  things  could  not  last.  With  her  marriage 
might  come  a  change.  At  any  rate,  the  subject  of 
her  sins  must  show  exhaustion  soon.  Let  her  endure ; 
let  her  do  anything  rather  than  forfeit  the  prospects 
she  had  won,  rather  than  step  down  from  the  pedestal 
of  grandeur  on  which  she  still  sat  before  the  world. 
What  does  the  world  know  or  reck  of  thorns  in  exalted 
cushions?  The  reflection,  which  ought  to  console 
only  the  world,  seems  to  bring  a  curious  comfort  to 
the  dignified  sufferers  on  the  cushions  also. 

Another  hope  bore  her  up.  Beneath  the  Barmouth 
stateliness  was  a  shrewdness  that  by  no  means  made 
light  of  material  things.  When  she  was  being  severe- 
ly lectured  she  had  cried  once  or  twice,  "  Anyhow,  I 
shall  make  a  lot  of  money!"  Fresh  reproofs  had  fol- 
lowed, but  they  had  sounded  less  convinced.  Trix 
felt  that  she  would  be  a  little  better  able  to  stand  up 
for  herself  if  she  could  produce  thousands  made  under 
the  hated  auspices  of  Fricker;  she  would  at  least  be 
able  to  retire  from  her  nefarious  pursuits  without  being 
told  that  she  was  a  fool  as  well  as  all  the  rest  of  it. 
She  waited  still  on  Fricker. 

"I  shall  never  do  it  again,  of  course,"  she  said  to 
Mrs.  Bonfill ;  "  but  if  it  all  goes  well,  I  do  think  that 
no  more  need  be  said  about  it." 

Mrs.  Bonfill  made  concessions  to  this  point  of  view. 

"  Let  us  hope  it  will  be  so,  my  dear.  I  think  myself 
that  your  faults  have  been  mainly  of  taste." 

"  At  any  rate,  I'm  not  silly,"  she  protested  to  Mer- 
vyn.  "You  mayn't  like  the  man,  but  he  knows  his 
business." 

"I  certainly  hope  you  won't  have  to  add  pecuniary 
loss  to  the  other  disagreeable  features  of  the  affair," 
said  Mervyn;  and  a  few  minutes  later,  apparently  as 

179 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

an  afterthought,  he  asked  her  carelessly  how  much 
she  would  make  on  the  best  hypothesis.  Trix  named 
a  moderate  figure  but  a  substantial  one. 

"And  I  suppose  the  rogue  '11  make  twice  as  much 
himself!"  There  was  reluctant  envy  in  Mervyn's 
tone.  It  gave  Trix  courage.  Could  she  brandish 
winnings  in  their  faces,  she  felt  sure  that  the  lecturers 
would  be  less  severe  and  she  less  helpless  before  them. 

Meanwhile,  with  the  impulse  to  make  a  friend  among 
her  jailers,  with  her  woman's  instinct  for  the  likeliest, 
she  was  all  dutifulness  and  affection  towards  Bar- 
mouth.  She  made  way  with  him.  The  success  helped 
her  a  little,  but  less  than  it  would  have  because  of  his 
reverence  for  his  son. 

"  How  such  an  affectionate,  well-mannered  young 
woman  could  be  led  so  far  astray  is  inexplicable  to 
me — inexplicable/'  he  observed  to  Mrs.  Bonfill. 

Mrs.  Bonfill  endorsed  his  bewilderment  with  a  help- 
less wave  of  her  hand. 

"There  is  good  in  her,"  he  announced.  "She  will 
respond  to  Mortimer's  influence."  And  the  good  gen- 
tleman began  to  make  things  a  little  easier  for  Trix 
within  the  narrow  sphere  of  his  ability.  Nobody,  of 
course,  had  ever  told  him  that  the  sphere  was  narrow, 
and  he  had  not  discovered  it ;  his  small,  semi-surrepti- 
tious indulgences  were  bestowed  with  a  princely  flour- 
ish. 

Lady  Barmouth  was  inexorable;  she  was  Mervyn's 
outraged  mother.  She  had,  moreover,  the  acuteness 
to  discern  one  of  the  ideas  that  lay  in  Trix's  mind 
and  stiffened  it  to  endurance. 

"Now  is  the  time  to  mould  her,"  she  said  to  Mrs. 
Bonfill.  "It  would  not  perhaps  be  so  easy  presently." 

Mrs.  Bonfill  knew  what  "presently"  meant,  and 
thought  that  her  friend  was  probably  right. 

1 80 


JUSTIFICATION    NUMBER    FOUR 

"But  once  we  imbue  her  with  our  feeling  about 
things,  she  will  keep  it.  At  present  she  is  receptive." 

"  I  think  she  is/'  agreed  Mrs.  Bonfill,  who  had  just 
an  occasional  pang  of  pity  for  Trix's  extreme  recep- 
tivity and  the  ample  advantage  taken  of  it. 

Trix  had  received  a  brief  note  from  Fricker,  saying 
that  he  was  doing  his  best  to  carry  out  her  instructions, 
and  hoped  to  be  able  to  arrange  matters  satisfactorily, 
although  he  must  obviously  be  hampered  in  some  de- 
gree by  the  peremptory  nature  of  her  request.  Trix 
hardly  saw  why  this  was  obvious,  but,  if  obvious,  at 
any  rate  it  was  also  quite  inevitable.  She  certainly 
did  not  realize  what  an  excellent  excuse  she  had  equip- 
ped Mr.  Fricker  with  if  he  sold  her  shares  at  a  loss. 
But  apparently  he  had  not  sold  them,  at  least  no  news 
came  to  that  effect ;  hope  that  he  was  waiting  to  effect 
a  great  coup  still  shot  in  one  encouraging  streak  across 
the  deadly  weariness  of  being  imbued  with  the  Bar- 
mouth  feeling  about  things.  Not  once  a  day,  but  once 
every  hour  at  least,  did  she  recall  that  unregenerate 
impulse  of  Lady  Blixworth's,  confessed  to  at  this  very 
Barslett,  and  accord  it  her  heartiest  sympathy. 

"  But  I  will  stick  to  it,"  she  said  to  herself,  grimly. 
Her  pluck  was  in  arms;  her  time  would  come;  for 
the  present  all  hung  on  Fricker. 

It  was  a  beautiful  July  evening  when  his  letter 
came.  Trix  had  just  escaped  from  a  long  talk  with 
Mervyn.  He  had  been  rather  more  affectionate,  rather 
less  didactic  than  usual ;  something  analogous  to  what 
the  law  calls  a  Statute  of  Limitations  seemed  gradually 
to  be  coming  into  his  mind  as  within  the  sphere  of 
practical  domestic  politics ;  not  an  amnesty — that  was 
going  too  far — but  the  possibility  of  saying  no  more 
about  it  some  day.  Trix  was  hopeful  as  she  wandered 
into  the  garden,  and,  sitting  down  by  the  fountain, 

181 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

let  the  gentle  breeze  blow  on  her  face.  It  comforted 
her  still  to  look  at  the  facade  and  the  gardens;  she 
got  from  the  contemplation  of  them  much  the  same 
quality  of  pleasure  as  Airey  Newton  drew  from  the 
sight  of  his  safe  and  his  red-leather  book. 

A  footman  brought  her  two  letters.  One  was  from 
Peggy  Ryle,  a  rigmarole  of  friendly  gossip,  ending 
with,  "We're  all  having  a  splendid  time,  and  we  all 
hope  you  are  too.  Everybody  sent  their  love  to  you 
last  night  at  supper."  With  a  wistful  smile  Trix 
laid  this  letter  down.  What  different  meanings  that 
word  "splendid"  may  bear,  to  be  sure! 

The  other  letter  —  it  was  from  Fricker!  Flicker  at 
last!  A  hasty  glance  round  preceded  the  opening  of 
it.  It  was  rather  long.  She  read  and  reread,  pass- 
ing her  hand  across  her  brow ;  indeed,  she  could  hard- 
ly understand  it,  though  Fricker  was  credited  by  his 
friends  with  an  unrivalled  power  of  conveying  his 
meaning  with  precision  and  nicety.  He  had  tried 
to  obey  her  instructions.  Unfortunately  there  had 
been  no  market.  Perforce,  he  had  waited.  He  had 
been  puzzled,  had  Fricker,  and  waited  to  make  in- 
quiries. Alas,  the  explanation  had  not  been  long  in 
coming.  First,  the  lode  had  suddenly  narrowed. 
On  the  top  of  this  calamity  had  come  a  fire  in  the  mine 
and  much  damage  to  the  property.  The  directors  had 
considered  whether  it  would  not  be  wise  to  suspend  op- 
erations altogether,  but  had  in  the  end  resolved  to 
go  on.  Mr.  Fricker  doubted  their  wisdom,  but  there 
it  was.  The  decision  entailed  a  call  of  five  shillings 
per  share  —  of  course  Mrs.  Trevalla  would  remember 
that  the  shares  were  only  five  shillings  paid.  The 
directors  hoped  that  further  calls  would  not  be  neces- 
sary; here  Fricker  was  sadly  sceptical  again.  Mean- 
while, there  was  no  chance  of  selling;  to  be  plain, 

182 


JUSTIFICATION   NUMBER   FOUR 

Glowing  Star  shares  would  not  just  now  be  a  welcome 
gift  to  any  one,  let  alone  an  eligible  purchase.  So, 
since  sale  was  impossible,  payment  of  the  call  was 
inevitable.  Then  came  the  end:  "Of  course,  mines 
are  not  Consols — nobody  knows  that  better  than  your- 
self. I  regret  the  unlucky  issue  of  this  venture.  I 
cannot  help  thinking  that  things  would  have  gone 
better  if  we  had  been  in  closer  touch  and  I  had  enjoyed 
more  ready  access  to  you.  But  I  was  forced  to  doubt 
my  welcome,  and  so  was,  perhaps,  led  into  not  keeping 
you  as  thoroughly  au  fait  with  what  was  going  on  as  I 
should  have  liked.  I  cannot  blame  myself  for  this, 
however  much  I  regret  it.  I  gather  that  you  do  not 
intend  to  undertake  any  further  operations,  or  I  would 
console  yourself  and  myself  by  saying,  'Better  luck 
next  time!'  As  matters  stand  (I  refer,  of  course,  to 
your  last  letter  to  me),  I  can  only  again  express  my 
regret  that  Glowing  Stars  have  been  subject  to  such 
bad  luck,  and  that  I  find  myself,  thanks  to  your  own 
desire,  not  in  a  position  to  help  you  to  recoup  your 
losses."  A  postscript  added:  "For  your  convenience 
I  may  remind  you  that  your  present  holding  is  four 
thousand  shares." 

The  last  part  of  the  letter  was  easier  to  understand 
than  the  first.  It  needed  no  rereading.  "You've 
chosen  to  drop  me.  Shift  for  yourself,  and  pay  your 
own  shot."  That  was  what  Mr.  Fricker  said  when 
it  was  translated  into  the  terse  brevity  of  a  vulgar 
directness.  The  man's  cold  relentlessness  spoke  in 
every  word.  Not  only  Beaufort  Chance,  not  only 
the  Barmouths  and  Mrs.  Bonfill,  not  only  Mortimer 
Mervyn,  had  lessons  to  teach  and  scourges  where- 
with to  enforce  them.  Fricker  had  his  lesson  to  give 
and  his  scourge  to  brandish,  too. 

Again  Trix  Trevalla  looked  round,  this  time  in 
183 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

sheer  panic.  She  crumpled  up  Pricker's  letter  and 
thrust  it  into  her  pocket.  She  saw  Peggy  Kyle's  in 
her  lap — Peggy  who  was  having  a  splendid  time. 
Trix  got  up  and  fairly  ran  into  the  house,  choking 
down  her  sobs. 

Ten  minutes  later  Mervyn  strolled  out,  looking  for 
her.  He  did  not  find  her,  but  he  came  upon  an  en- 
velope lying  on  the  ground  near  the  fountain — a  long- 
shaped  business  envelope.  It  was  addressed  to  Mrs. 
Trevalla,  and  at  the  back  it  bore  an  oval  impressed 
stamp,  "S.  F.  &  Co." 

"Ah,  she's  heard  from  Fricker.  That's  the  end 
of  the  whole  thing,  I  hope!"  He  felt  glad  of  that, 
so  glad  that  he  added  in  a  gentle  and  pitying  tone, 
"Poor  little  Trix,  we  must  keep  her  out  of  mischief 
in  future!"  He  looked  at  his  watch,  pocketed  the 
envelope  (he  was  a  very  orderly  man),  paced  up  and 
down  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  went  in  to  dress  for 
dinner.  As  he  dressed  a  pleasant  little  idea  came  into 
his  head :  he  would  puzzle  Trix  by  his  cleverness ;  he 
meditated  what,  coming  from  a  less  eminent  young 
man,  would  have  been  called  "a  score." 

At  dinner  Trix  was  bright  and  animated;  Mervyn's 
manner  was  affectionate;  the  other  three  exchanged 
gratified  glances — Trix  was  becoming  imbued  with 
the  Barmouth  feeling  about  things,  even  (as  it  seemed) 
to  the  extent  of  sharing  the  Barmouth  ideas  as  to  a 
merry  evening. 

"You're  brilliant  to-night,  Trix— brilliant,"  Lord 
Barmouth  assured  her. 

"Oh,  she  can  be!"  declared  Mrs.  Bonfill,  with  a  re- 
turn to  the  "fond  mother"  style  of  early  days. 

Lady  Barmouth  looked  slightly  uneasy  and  changed 
the  subject ;  after  all,  brilliancy  was  hardly  Barmouth- 
ian. 

184 


JUSTIFICATION    NUMBER    FOUR 

When  the  servants  had  gone  and  the  port  came 
(Mervyn  did  not  drink  it,  but  his  father  did),  Mervyn 
perceived  his  moment;  the  presence  of  the  others  was 
no  hinderance  —  had  not  Trix's  punishment  been  as 
public  as  her  sin?  If  she  were  forgiven,  the  ceremony 
should  certainly  be  in  the  face  of  the  congregation. 

"So  you  heard  from  Mr.  Fricker  to-day?"  he  said 
to  Trix. 

He  did  not  mean  to  trap  her — only,  as  explained,  to 
raise  a  cry  of  admiration  by  telling  how  he  came  to 
know  and  producing  the  envelope.  But  in  an  instant 
Trix  suspected  a  trap  and  was  on  the  alert;  she  had 
the  vigilance  of  the  hunted ;  her  brain  worked  at  light- 
ning speed.  In  a  flash  of  salvation  the  picture  of  her- 
self crumpling  up  the  letter  rose  before  her ;  the  letter, 
yes — but  the  envelope?  In  the  result  Mervyn 's  "  score  " 
succeeded  to  a  marvel. 

"  Yes,  but  how  did  you  know?"  she  cried,  apparently 
in  boundless,  innocent  astonishment. 

"Ah!"  said  he,  archly.  "Now  how  did  I  know?" 
He  produced  the  envelope  and  held  it  up  before  her 
eyes.  "You'd  never  make  a  diplomatist,  Trix!" 

"I  dropped  it  in  the  garden!" 

"  And  as  I  was  naturally  looking  for  you,  I  found  it." 

He  was  not  disappointed  of  his  sensation.  The 
thing  was  simple  indeed,  but  neat. 

"I  notice  everything,  too — everything,"  observed 
Barmouth,  with  the  air  of  explaining  an  occurrence 
otherwise  very  astonishing. 

"It's  quite  true,  Robert  does,"  Lady  Barmouth 
assured  Mrs.  Bonfi.ll. 

"Wonderful!"  ejaculated  that  lady  with  friendly 
heartiness. 

Lord  Barmouth  cleared  his  throat.  "  So  far  as  pos- 
sible from  that  quarter,  good  news,  I  hope?' 

185 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Trix  had  postponed  making  up  her  mind  what  to 
say;  she  did  not  mean  to  mention  Pricker's  letter  till 
the  next  morning,  and  hoped  that  she  would  see  her 
way  a  little  clearer  then.  She  was  denied  the  respite. 
They  all  waited  for  her  answer. 

"  Oh,  don't  let's  talk  business  at  dinner  I  I'll  tell  you 
about  it  afterwards,"  she  said. 

Mervyn  interposed  with  a  suave  but  peremptory 
request. 

"My  dear,  it  must  be  on  our  minds.  Just  tell  us 
in  a  word." 

Her  brain,  still  working  at  express  speed,  seeming 
indeed  as  though  it  could  never  again  drop  to  hum- 
drum pace,  pictured  the  effect  of  the  truth  and  the 
Barmouth  way  of  looking  at  the  truth.  She  had 
no  hope  but  that  the  truth — well,  most  of  the  truth, 
anyhow — must  come  some  day ;  but  she  must  tell  it  to 
Mervyn  alone,  at  her  own  time;  she  would  not  and 
could  not  tell  it  to  them  all  there  and  then. 

"It's  very  good,"  she  said,  coolly.  "I  don't  under- 
stand quite  how  good,  but  quite  good." 

"And  the  whole  thing's  finished?"  asked  Mrs.  Bon- 
fill. 

"Absolutely  finished,"  assented  Trix. 

Lord  Barmouth  sighed  and  looked  round  the  table ; 
his  air  was  magnanimous  in  the  extreme. 

"I  think  we  must  say,  'All's  well  that  ends  well!' ' 
Trix  was  next  him;  he  patted  her  hand  as  it  lay  on 
the  table. 

That  was  going  just  a  little  too  far. 

"It  ends  well — and  it  ends!"  amended  Mervyn  with 
affectionate  authority.  Lady  Barmouth  nodded  ap- 
proval to  Mrs.  Bonfill. 

"Oh,  yes,  it  ends,"  said  Trix  Trevalla. 

Her  face  felt  burning  hot ;  she  wondered  whether  its 

186 


JUSTIFICATION    NUMBER    FOUR 

color  tallied  with  the  sensation.  Despair  was  in  her 
heart;  she  had  lied  again,  and  lied  for  no  ultimate 
good.  She  rather  startled  Lady  Barmouth  by  asking 
for  a  glass  of  port.  Lord  Barmouth,  in  high  good- 
humor,  poured  it  out  gallantly,  and  then,  with  obvious 
tact,  shifted  the  talk  to  a  discussion  of  his  son's  public 
services,  pointing  out  incidentally  how  the  qualities 
that  had  rendered  these  possible  had  in  his  own  case 
displayed  themselves  in  a  sphere  more  private,  but  not, 
as  he  hoped,  less  useful.  Mervyn  agreed  that  his 
father  had  been  quite  as  useful  as  himself.  Even 
Mrs.  Bonfill  stifled  a  yawn. 

The  end  of  dinner  came.  Trix  escaped  into  the 
garden,  leaving  the  ladies  in  the  drawing-room,  the 
men  still  at  the  table.  Her  brain  was  painting  scenes 
with  broad,  rapid  strokes  of  the  brush.  She  saw  her- 
self telling  Mervyn,  she  saw  his  face,  his  voice,  his 
horrified  amazement.  Then  came  she  herself  waiting 
while  he  told  the  others.  Next  there  was  the  facing 
of  the  family.  What  would  they  do?  Would  they 
turn  her  out?  That  would  be  a  bitter,  short  agony. 
Or  would  they  not  rather  keep  her  in  prison  and  school 
her  again?  She  would  come  to  them  practically  a 
pauper  now.  Besides  all  there  had  been  against  her 
before,  she  would  now  stand  confessed  a  pauper  and 
a  fool.  One,  too,  who  had  lied  about  the  thing  to  the 
very  end!  In  the  dark  of  evening  the  great  house 
loomed  like  a  very  prison.  The  fountains  were  silent, 
the  birds  at  rest;  a  heavy  stillness  added  to  the  dun- 
geon-like effect.  She  walked  quickly,  furiously,  along 
one  path  after  another,  throwing  uneasy  glances  over 
her  shoulder,  listening  for  a  footfall,  as  though  she 
were  in  literal  truth  being  tracked  and  hunted  from 
her  lair.  The  heart  was  out  of  her:  at  last  her  cour- 
age was  broken.  What  early  hardships,  what  Vesey 

187 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Trevalla,  what  Beaufort  Chance  himself  could  not  do, 
that  Flicker  and  the  Barmouths  had  done — Pricker's 
idea  of  what  was  necessary  in  business  relations  and 
the  Barmouth  way  of  feeling  about  things.  There  was 
no  fight  left  in  Trix  Trevalla. 

Unless  it  were  for  one  desperate  venture,  the  height 
of  courage  or  of  cowardice — which  she  knew  not,  and 
it  signified  nothing.  She  had  ceased  to  think.  She 
had  little  but  a  blind  instinct  urging  her  to  hide  herself. 

"This  is  very  fortunate,  Mortimer,"  observed  Bar- 
mouth  over  his  port.  He  did  not  take  coffee;  Mervyn 
did. 

"The  best  possible  thing  under  the  circumstances. 
I  don't  think  I  need  say  much  more  to  her." 

"I  think  not.  She  understands  now  how  we  feel. 
Perhaps  we  could  hardly  expect  her  to  realize  it  until 
she  had  enjoyed  the  full  opportunities  her  stay  here 
has  given  her."  Who  now  should  call  him  narrow- 
minded? 

"I  have  very  little  fear  for  the  future,"  said  Mervyn. 

"You  have  every  reason  to  hope.  I  wonder — er — 
how  much  she  has  made?"  Mervyn  frowned  slightly. 
"Well,  well,  it's  better  to  win  than  lose,"  Barmouth 
added,  with  a  propitiatory  smile. 

"Of  course.     But—" 

"You  don't  like  the  subject?  Of  course  not!  No 
more  do  I.  Shall  we  join  the  ladies?  A  moment, 
Mortimer.  Would  you  rather  speak  to  her  yourself? 
Or  should  your  mother — ?" 

"Oh  no.     There's  really  nothing.     Leave  it  to  me." 

Lady  Barmouth  and  Mrs.  Bonfill  were  drinking  tea 
from  ancestral  china. 

"  Mortimer  is  quiet,  but  he's  very  firm,"  Lady  Bar- 
mouth  was  saying.  "I  think  we  need  fear  no — no 
outbreaks  in  the  future." 

188 


"A  firm  hand  will  do  no  harm  with  Trix.  But 
with  proper  management  she'll  be  a  credit  to  him." 

"I  really  think  we  can  hope  so,  Sarah.  Where  is 
she,  by -the- way?" 

"  She's  gone  to  her  room.  I  don't  think  she'll  come 
down  again  to-night  from  what  my  maid  said  just 
now  when  I  met  her."  Mrs.  Bonfill  paused  and  added, 
"She  must  have  been  under  a  strain,  you  know." 

"She  should  have  been  prepared  for  that.  How- 
ever, Mortimer  doesn't  go  to  town  till  the  afternoon 
to-morrow."  There  would  be  plenty  of  time  for  morals 
to  be  pointed. 

Mervyn  seemed  hardly  surprised  at  not  finding 
Trix.  He  agreed  that  the  next  day  would  serve,  and 
took  himself  off  to  read  papers  and  write  letters;  by 
doing  the  work  to-night  he  would  save  a  post.  Lord 
Barmouth  put  on  a  woollen  cap,  wrapped  a  Shetland 
shawl  round  his  shoulders,  and  said  that  he  would  go 
for  a  stroll.  This  form  of  words  was  well  understood ; 
it  was  no  infrequent  way  of  his  to  take  a  look  round 
his  domains  in  the  evening;  there  were,  sometimes, 
people  out  at  night  who  ought  to  be  in-doors,  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  fireside  now  and  then  beguiled  a 
night-watchman  from  his  duties.  Such  little  irregu- 
larities, so  hard  to  avoid  in  large  establishments,  were 
kept  in  check  by  Lord  Barmouth's  evening  strolls — 
"prowls"  they  were  called  in  other  quarters  of  the 
house  than  those  occupied  by  the  family  itself.  The 
clock  struck  ten  as  the  worthy  nobleman  set  forth 
on  his  mission  of  law,  order,  and,  it  may  happily  be 
added,  personal  enjoyment.  He  was  armed  with  a 
spud  and  a  bull's-eye  lantern. 

The  night-watchman  was  asleep  by  the  fire  in  the 
engine-room.  Justification  number  one  for  the  excur- 
sion. Her  ladyship's  own  maid  was  talking  to  Lord 

189 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Mervyn's  own  man  in  a  part  of  the  premises  rigor- 
ously reserved  for  the  men  who  lived  over  the  stables. 
Justification — cumulative  justification — number  two. 
Lord  Barmouth  turned  into  the  shrubbery,  just  to  see 
whether  the  little  gate  leading  on  to  the  high-road  was 
locked,  according  to  the  strict  orders  given.  It  was 
not  locked.  Justification — triumphant  and  crowning 
justification — number  three ! 

"It's  scandalous!  —  scandalous!"  murmured  Lord 
Barmouth,  in  something  very  like  gratification.  Many 
people  would  miss  their  chief  pleasure  were  their  neigh- 
bors and  dependants  void  of  blame. 

He  turned  back  at  a  brisk  pace;  he  had  no  key  to 
the  gate  himself,  the  night-watchman  had;  the  night- 
watchman  did  not  seem  to  be  in  luck's  way  to-night. 
Lord  Barmouth's  step  was  quick  and  decisive,  his 
smile  sour;  leaving  that  gate  unlocked  was  a  capital 
offence,  and  he  was  eager  to  deal  punishment.  But 
suddenly  he  came  to  a  pause  on  the  narrow  path. 

Justification  number  four!  A  woman  came  towards 
him,  hurrying  along  with  rapid,  frightened  tread.  She 
was  making  for  the  gate.  The  nefariousness  of  the 
scheme,  thus  revealed,  infuriated  Barmouth.  He  stepped 
aside  behind  a  tree  and  waited  till  she  came  nearer. 
She  wore  a  large  hat  and  a  thick  veil ;  she  turned  her 
head  back  several  times,  as  though  to  listen  behind 
her.  He  flashed  his  lantern  on  her  and  saw  a  dark 
skirt  with  a  light  silk  petticoat  showing  an  inch  or 
two  below.  He  conceived  the  gravest  suspicions  of 
the  woman — a  thing  that  perhaps  need  not  be  consid- 
ered unreasonable.  He  stepped  out  on  the  path  and 
walked  towards  her,  hiding  the  light  of  the  lantern  again. 

"Who  are  you,  ma'am?  What  are  you  doing  here? 
Where  do  you  come  from?"  His  peremptory  questions 
came  like  pistol-shots. 

190 


JUSTIFICATION   NUMBER    FOUR 

She  turned  her  head  towards  him,  starting  violently. 
But  after  that  she  stood  still  and  silent. 

"I  am  Lord  Barmouth.  I  suppose  you  know  me? 
What's  your  business  here?" 

She  was  silent  still. 

"Nonsense!  You  have  no  business  here,  and  you 
know  it.  You  must  give  me  an  account  of  yourself, 
ma'am,  or  I  shall  find  a  way  to  make  you." 

She  gave  an  account  of  herself ;  with  trembling,  un- 
gloved hands  she  raised  her  veil.  He  turned  his  lan- 
tern on  her  face  and  recoiled  from  her  with  a  clumsy 
spring. 

"You?"  he  gasped.  "You?  Trix?  Are  you  mad? 
Where  are  you  going?" 

Her  face  was  pale  and  hard-lined;  her  eyes  were 
bright,  and  looked  scarcely  sane  in  the  concentrated 
glare  of  the  lantern. 

"  Let  me  pass,"  she  said,  in  a  low,  shaken  voice. 

"  Let  you  pass !     Whereto?    Nonsense!     You're — " 

"Let  me  pass,"  she  commanded  again. 

"No/'  he  answered,  barring  her  path  with  his  broad, 
squat  form.  Decision  rang  in  his  tones. 

"You  must,"  she  said,  simply.  She  put  out  her 
arms  and  thrust  at  him.  He  was  heavy  to  move,  but 
he  was  driven  on  one  side;  the  nervous  fury  in  her 
arms  sent  him  staggering  back;  he  dropped  his  lan- 
tern and  saved  himself  with  his  spud. 

"Trixl"  he  cried,  in  helpless  rage  and  astonish- 
ment. 

"No,  no,  no!"  she  sobbed  out,  as  she  darted  past 
him,  pulling  her  veil  down  again  and  making  for  the 
gate.  She  ran  now,  sobbing  convulsively,  and  catch- 
ing up  her  skirts  high  over  her  ankles.  The  manner 
of  her  running  scandalized  Lord  Barmouth  hardly  less 
than  the  fact  of  it. 

191 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"Trix!  Trix!"  he  shouted,  imperiously,  and  started 
in  pursuit  of  her.  She  did  not  turn  again,  nor  speak 
again.  She  rushed  through  the  gate,  slamming  it 
behind  her.  It  swung  to  in  his  face  as  he  came  up. 
Snatching  it  open,  he  held  it  with  his  hand;  she  was 
ten  or  fifteen  yards  down  the  road,  running  with  a 
woman's  short,  shuffling,  flat-footed  stride,  but  mak- 
ing good  headway  all  the  same;  still  he  heard  her 
sobs,  more  convulsive  now  for  shortness  of  breath. 

"Good  God!"  said  Lord  Barmouth,  helplessly  star- 
ing after  her. 

Justifications  one,  two,  and  three  were  driven  clean 
out  of  his  head.  Justification  number  four  made  mat- 
ter enough  for  any  brain  to  hold  —  and  the  night- 
watchman  was  in  luck's  way,  after  all. 

He  stood  there  till  he  could  neither  hear  nor  see  her ; 
then,  leaving  the  gate  ajar,  he  wrapped  his  shawl 
closer  round  him,  picked  up  his  lantern,  and  walked 
slowly  home.  An  alarm  or  a  pursuit  did  not  occur  to 
him.  He  was  face  to  face  with  something  that  he  did 
not  understand,  but  he  understood  enough  to  see  that 
at  this  moment  nothing  could  be  done. 

The  great  facade  of  the  house  was  dark,  save  for 
two  windows.  Behind  one  Mervyn  worked  steadily 
at  his  papers.  Behind  the  other  lights  flared  in  the 
room  that  had  belonged  to  Trix — flared  on  the  disorder 
of  her  dinner-gown  flung  aside,  her  bag  half  packed 
and  thus  abandoned,  Pricker's  letter  torn  across  and 
lying  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 

Barmouth  must  be  pardoned  his  bewilderment.  The 
whole  affair  was  so  singularly  out  of  harmony  with 
the  Barmouth  feelings  and  the  Barmouth  ways. 


XIV 

A  HOUSE  OF  REFUGE 

PEGGY  RYLE  was  alone  in  lodgings  in  Harriet 
Street,  near  Covent  Garden.  Elfreda  Flood  had 
gone  on  tour,  having  obtained  a  part,  rich  in  possi- 
bilities, at  a  salary  sufficient  for  necessities.  Under 
conditions  that  lacked  both  these  attractions,  Horace 
Harnack  had  joined  the  same  company;  so  that,  ac- 
cording to  Miles  Childwick,  the  worst  was  expected. 
Considering  the  paucity  of  amusement  and  the  multi- 
tude of  churches  in  provincial  cities,  what  else  could 
be  looked  for  from  artistic  and  impressionable  minds? 
At  this  time  Miles  was  affecting  a  tone  about  marriage 
which  gave  Mrs.  John  Maturin  valuable  hints  for  her 
new  pessimistic  novel. 

The  lodgings  wavered  between  being  downright  hon- 
est lodgings  and  setting  up  to  be  a  flat — this  latter 
on  the  strength  of  being  shut  off  from  the  rest  of  the 
mansion  (the  word  found  authority  in  the  "To  let" 
notices  outside)  by  a  red-baize  door  with  a  bolt  that  did 
not  act.  This  frail  barrier  passed,  you  came  to  El- 
freda's  room  first,  then,  across  the  passage,  to  the 
sitting-room,  then  to  Peggy's  on  the  right  again.  There 
were  cupboards  where  cooking  was  done  and  the  char- 
woman abode  by  day,  and  where  you  could  throw  away 
what  you  did  not  want  and  thought  your  partner  could 
not ;  mistakes  sometimes  occurred  and  had  to  be  atoned 
for  by  the  surrender  of  articles  vitally  indispensable  to 
the  erring  party. 

13  193 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Needless  to  say,  the  lodgings  were  just  now  the 
scene  of  boundless  hospitality;  it  would  have  been 
sumptuous  also  but  for  the  charwoman's  immutable 
and  not  altogether  unfounded  belief  that  Peggy  was 
ruining  herself.  The  charwoman  always  forgot  the 
luxuries;  as  the  guests  never  believed  in  them,  no 
harm  was  done.  Peggy  flitted  in  and  out  to  change 
her  frock,  seldom  settling  down  in  her  home  till  twelve 
or  one  o'clock  at  night.  She  was  in  a  state  of  rare 
contentment,  an  accretion  to  the  gayety  that  was  hers 
by  nature.  Somehow  perplexities  had  disappeared; 
they  used  to  be  rather  rife,  for  she  had  a  vivid  imagi- 
nation, apt  to  pick  out  the  attractions  of  any  prospect 
or  any  individual,  capable  of  presenting  its  owner  as 
enjoying  exceeding  happiness  with  any  person  and 
in  any  station  of  life,  and  thus  of  producing  impulses 
which  had  occasionally  resulted  in  the  perplexities 
that  were  now — somehow — a  matter  of  the  past.  The 
change  of  mood  dated  from  the  day  when  Peggy  had 
made  her  discovery  about  Airey  Newton  and  given 
her  word  of  honor  to  Tommy  Trent;  it  was  nursed  in 
the  deepest  secrecy,  its  sole  overt  effect  being  to  enable 
Peggy  to  receive  any  amount  of  attention  with  frank 
and  entirely  unperturbed  gratitude.  If  she  were  mis- 
understood—  But  there  must  really  be  an  end  of  the 
idea  that  we  are  bound  to  regulate  our  conduct  by  the 
brains  of  the  stupidest  man  in  the  room.  "And  they 
have  the  fun  of  it,"  Peggy  used  to  reflect,  in  much 
charity  with  herself  and  all  men. 

That  night,  in  Lady  Blixworth's  conservatory,  she 
had  refused  the  hand  of  Mr.  Stapleton-Staines  (son  of 
that  Sir  Stapleton  who  had  an  estate  bordering  on 
Barslett,  and  had  agreed  with  Lord  Barmouth  that 
you  could  not  touch  pitch  without  being  defiled),  and 
she  drove  home  with  hardly  a  regret  at  having  thrown 

194 


A   HOUSE   OF   REFUGE 

away  the  prospect  of  being  a  county  gentlewoman. 
She  was  no  more  than  wondering  gently  if  there  were 
any  attractions  at  all  about  the  life.  She  had  also  the 
feeling  of  a  good  evening's  work,  not  disturbed  in  the 
least  degree  by  the  expression  of  Lady  Blixworth's 
face  when  she  and  Mr.  Staines  parted  at  the  door  of 
the  conservatory,  and  Mr.  Staines  took  scowling  leave 
of  his  hostess.  She  lay  back  in  her  cab,  smiling  at 
the  world. 

On  her  doorstep  sat  two  gentlemen  in  opera-hats  and 
long,  brown  coats.  They  were  yawning  enormously, 
and  had  long  ceased  any  effort  at  conversation.  They 
had  the  street  to  themselves  save  for  a  draggled-look- 
ing  woman  who  wandered  aimlessly  about  on  the 
other  side  of  the  road,  a  policeman  who  seemed  to 
have  his  eye  on  the  woman  and  on  them  alternately, 
and  a  wagon  laden  with  vegetables  that  ground  its 
way  along  to  the  market.  Peggy's  hansom  drove  up. 
The  two  men  jumped  joyfully  to  their  feet  and  as- 
sumed expressions  of  intense  disgust;  the  policeman 
found  something  new  to  watch;  the  draggled  woman 
turned  her  head  towards  the  house  and  stood  look- 
ing on. 

"Punctual  as  usual!"  said  Miles  Childwick,  encour- 
agingly. "Eleven  to  the  moment!" 

The  clock  of  St.  Paul's,  Covent  Garden,  struck  12.30. 

"Here's  the  key,"  said  Peggy,  helpfully.  "Have 
you  half  a  crown,  Tommy?" 

"  I  have  a  florin,  and  it's  three-quarters  of  a  mile." 

Peggy  looked  defiant  for  a  minute;  then  she  gave  a 
funny  little  laugh.  "All  right,"  said  she. 

They  went  in.  The  policeman  yawned  and  re- 
sumed his  stroll;  the  woman,  after  a  moment's  hesi- 
tation, walked  slowly  round  the  corner  and  down  tow- 
ards the  Strand. 

195 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Arrived  up-stairs,  Peggy  darted  at  the  table;  a  tele- 
gram lay  there.  She  tore  it  open. 

"They've  done  it!"  she  cried;  exultantly. 

"What  church?"  asked  Childwick,  resignedly. 

"I  mean  they're  engaged." 

"When?"  inquired  Tommy,  who  was  busy  with 
soda-water. 

"Six  forty-five,"  answered  Peggy,  consulting  the 
stamp  on  the  telegram. 

"They  might  have  waited  till  the  hour  struck,"  re- 
marked Childwick  in  a  disgusted  tone. 

"Isn't  it  splendid?"  insisted  Peggy. 

"You  say  something  proper,  Tommy,  old  boy." 
Childwick  was  ostentatiously  overcome. 

"Is  it  a — an  enthusiastic  telegram?"  asked  Tommy, 
after  a  drink. 

"No.  She  only  says  they're  the  happiest  people  in 
the  world." 

"If  it's  no  worse  than  that  we  can  sit  down  to 
supper."  Mr.  Childwick  proceeded  to  do  so  imme- 
diately. 

"I  ordered  lobsters,"  said  Peggy,  as  she  threw  her 
cloak  away  and  appeared  resplendent  in  her  best  white 
frock. 

"The  mutton's  here  all  right,"  Childwick  assured 
her.  "  And  there's  a  good  bit  left." 

"  What  that  pair  propose  to  live  on — "  began  Tommy, 
as  he  cut  the  loaf. 

"The  diet  is  entirely  within  the  discretion  of  the 
Relieving  Officer,"  interrupted  Childwick. 

"  I'm  so  glad  she's  done  it  while  I've  got  some  money 
left.  Shall  I  give  her  a  bracelet  or  a  necklace,  or — 
could  I  give  her  a  tiara,  Tommy?" 

"A  tiara  or  two,  I  should  say,"  smiled  Tommy. 

"  It's  awfully  hot!"  Peggy  rose,  pulled  up  the  blind, 

196 


A   HOUSE   OF   REFUGE 

and  flung  the  window  open.  "  Let's  drink  their  health. 
Hurrah!" 

Their  shouts  made  the  policeman  smile,  and  caused 
the  woman,  who,  having  gone  down  round  the  west 
corner,  had  come  up  again  and  turned  into  the  street 
from  the  east,  to  look  up  to  the  lights  in  the  window; 
then  she  leaned  against  the  railings  opposite  and 
watched  the  lights.  The  policeman,  after  a  moment's 
consideration,  began  to  walk  towards  her  very  slowly, 
obviously  desiring  it  to  be  understood  that  he  was  not 
thereby  committed  to  any  definite  action;  he  would 
approach  a  crowd  on  the  pavement,  having  some  in- 
visible centre  of  disturbance  or  interest,  with  the  same 
strictly  provisional  air. 

"And  how  was  our  friend  Lady  Blixworth?"  asked 
Tommy. 

"She  looked  tired,  and  said  she'd  been  taking  Au- 
drey Pollington  about.  She's  the  most  treacherous  ac- 
complice I  know." 

"  She's  like  Miles  here.  Nothing's  sacred  if  a  good 
gibe's  possible." 

"  Nothing  ought  to  be  sacred  at  which  a  good  gibe — 
a  good  one — is  possible,"  Childwick  maintained. 

"Oh,  I  only  meant  something  smart,"  explained 
Tommy,  contemptuously. 

"Then  don't  deviate  into  careless  compliment.  It 
causes  unnecessary  conversation,  and  the  mutton  is 
far  from  bad,  though  not  far  from  being  finished." 

"If  only  the  lobsters — "  began  Peggy,  plaintively. 

"I  do  not  believe  in  the  lobsters,"  said  Childwick, 
firmly. 

"Then  she  asked  me  after  Trix  Tre valla —  Why, 
there's  a  knock!" 

It  was  true.  The  policeman  had  at  last  approached 
the  woman  with  a  step  that  spoke  of  a  formed  decision. 

197 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF  PEGGY 

To  his  surprise  she  suddenly  exclaimed  in  an  impa- 
tient voice,  "  Oh,  well,  if  they're  going  to  stay  all  night, 
I  can't  wait,"  and  crossed  the  road.  He  followed  her 
to  the  doorstep. 

"This  isn't  where  you  live,"  he  said,  as  though 
kindness  suggested  the  information. 

"No,  it  isn't,"  she  agreed. 

"  Come,  now,  where  do  you  live?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  seeming  puzzled  and 
tired.  "My  flat's  let,  you  see." 

"Oh,  is  it?"  Sarcasm  became  predominant  in  the 
policeman's  voice.  "Taken  it  for  the  Maharajeer  of 
Kopang,  have  they?"  A  prince  bearing  that  title  was 
a  visitor  to  London  at  this  time,  and  was  creating  con- 
siderable interest. 

"Nonsense!"  said  she,  with  asperity,  and  she  knock- 
ed, adding,  "  I  know  the  lady  who  lives  up  there." 

"There's  a  woman  on  the  doorstep — and  a  police- 
man!" cried  Peggy  to  her  companions;  she  had  run  to 
the  window  and  put  her  head  out. 

"  Now,  Tommy,  which  has  come  for  you  and  which 
for  me?"  asked  Childwick. 

"Stay  where  you  are,"  said  Peggy.  "I'll  go  down 
and  see." 

In  spite  of  Tommy's  protests — Childwick  made  none 
— she  insisted  on  going  alone.  The  fact  is  that  she 
had  two  or  three  friends  who  were  habitually  in  very 
low  water;  it  was  just  possible  that  this  might  be  one 
who  was  stranded  altogether. 

The  men  waited ;  they  heard  voices  below,  they  heard 
the  hall  door  shut,  there  were  steps  on  the  stairs,  the 
red-baize  door  swung  on  its  hinges. 

"She's  brought  her  up,"  said  Childwick.  "Where 
are  our  hats,  Tommy?" 

"Wait  a  bit,  we  may  be  wanted,"  suggested  Tommy. 

198 


A    HOUSE    OF    REFUGE 

"That's  why  I  proposed  to  go/'  murmured  Child- 
wick. 

"Rot,  old  fellow,"  was  Tommy's  reception  of  this  af- 
fected discretion.  He  went  to  the  window  and  craned 
his  neck  out.  "  The  policeman's  gone,"  he  an- 
nounced, with  some  relief.  "That's  all  right,  any- 
how!" 

"All  right?  Our  only  protection  gone!  Mark  you, 
Tommy,  we're  in  luck  if  we  don't  have  our  pictures  in 
a  philanthropic  publication  over  this." 

"Where  have  they  gone?  Into  one  of  the  bedrooms, 
I  suppose." 

The  door  opened  and  Peggy  ran  in.  Her  eyes  were 
wide  with  astonishment;  excitement  was  evident  in 
her  manner;  there  was  a  stain  of  mud  on  the  skirt  of 
her  best  white  frock. 

"The  whiskey!"  she  gasped,  clutched  it,  and  fled 
out  again. 

"Now  we  know  the  worst,"  said  Miles,  turning  his 
empty  glass  upside-down. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Miles,"  suggested  Tommy,  a  little 
impatiently. 

"I'll  stop  as  soon  as  there's  anything  else  to  do," 
retorted  Miles,  tranquilly. 

Peggy  reappeared  with  the  whiskey.  She  set  it 
down  on  the  table  and  spoke  to  them. 

"I  want  you  both  to  go  now  and  to  say  nothing." 

They  glanced  at  each  other  and  turned  to  their 
coats.  In  unbroken  silence  they  put  them  on,  took 
their  hats,  and  held  out  their  hands  to  Peggy.  She 
began  to  laugh ;  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"You  may  say  good-night,"  she  told  them. 

"Good-night,  Peggy." 

"Good-night,  Peggy." 

"Good-night — and  I  should  like  to  kiss  you  both," 
199 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

said  Peggy  Ryle.  "  You're  not  to  say  anybody  came, 
you  know," 

They  nodded,  and  went  into  the  passage. 

"  I  shall  come  and  see  you  soon,"  Peggy  told  Tommy 
Trent,  as  she  shut  the  baize  door  behind  them.  Then 
she  turned  into  Elfreda's  room.  "Come  and  have 
some  supper  now,"  she  said. 

Trix  Trevalla  caught  her  by  the  hands  and  kissed 
her.  "You  look  so  pretty  and  so  happy,  dear,"  she 
sighed;  "and  I'm  such  a  guy  I" 

The  term  hardly  described  her  pale,  strained  face, 
feverishly  bright  eyes,  and  the  tangle  of  brown  hair 
that  hung  in  disorderly  masses  round  her  brow.  She 
had  thrown  off  her  wet  jacket  and  skirt  and  put  on  a 
tea-gown  of  Elf reda  Flood's ;  her  feet  were  in  the  same 
lady's  second-best  slippers.  Peggy  led  her  into  the 
sitting-room  and  made  her  eat. 

"I  didn't  tell  them  who  you  were.  And,  anyhow, 
they  wouldn't  say  anything,"  she  assured  the  wan- 
derer. 

"Well,  who  am  I?"  asked  Trix.  "I  hardly  know. 
I  know  who  I  was  before  dinner,  but  who  am  I  now?" 

"Tell  me  about  it." 

"I  can't.  I  ran  away.  I  think  I  knocked  Lord 
Barmouth  down.  Then  I  ran  to  the  station — I  knew 
there  was  a  train.  Just  by  chance  I  put  on  the  skirt 
that  had  my  purse  in  it,  or —  No,  I'd  never  have  gone 
back.  And  I  got  to  London.  I  went  to  my  flat.  At 
the  door  I  remembered  it  was  let.  Then— then,  Peggy, 
I  went  to  Danes  Inn."  She  looked  up  at  Peggy  with  a 
puzzled  glance,  as  though  asking  why  she  had  gone  to 
Danes  Inn.  "But  he  was  out— at  least  there  was  no 
answer — and  the  porter  had  followed  me  and  was  wait- 
ing at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  So  I  came  down.  I  told 
him  I  was  Airey  Newton's  sister,  but  he  didn't  believe 

200 


A    HOUSE    OF    REFUGE 

me."  She  broke  into  a  weak  laugh.  "So  I  came 
here,  and  waited  till  you  came.  But  those  men  were 
here,  so  I  waited  till — till  I  couldn't  wait  any  longer." 
She  lay  back  exhausted  in  her  chair.  "May  I  stay 
to-night?"  she  asked. 

"It's  so  lucky  Elfreda's  away.  There's  a  whole 
room  for  you!"  said  Peggy.  She  got  a  low  chair  and 
sat  down  by  Trix.  But  Trix  sprang  suddenly  to  her 
feet  in  a  new  spasm  of  nervous  excitement  that  made 
her  weariness  forgotten.  Peggy  watched  her,  a  little 
afraid,  half  sorry  that  she  had  not  bidden  Tommy 
Trent  wait  outside  the  baize  door. 

"Oh,  that  time  at  Barslett!"  cried  Trix  Trevalla, 
flinging  out  her  hands.  "The  torture  of  it!  And  I 
told  them  all  lies,  nothing  but  lies!  They  were  turn- 
ing me  into  one  great  lie.  I  told  lies  to  the  man  I  was 
going  to  marry — this  very  night  I  told  him  a  lie.  And 
I  didn't  dare  to  confess.  So  I  ran  away.  I  ran  for  my 
life — literally  for  my  life,  I  think." 

This  sort  of  thing  was  quite  new  to  Peggy,  as  new  to 
her  as  to  the  Barmouths,  though  in  a  different  way. 

"  Weren't  they  kind  to  you?"  she  asked,  wonderingly. 
It  was  strange  that  this  was  the  woman  who  had  made 
the  great  triumph,  whom  all  the  other  women  were 
envying. 

Trix  took  no  notice  of  her  simple  question. 

"I'm  beaten,"  she  said.  "It's  all  too  hard  for  me. 
I  thought  I  could  do  it  —  I  can't!"  She  turned  on 
Peggy  almost  fiercely.  "I've  myself  to  thank  for  it. 
There's  hardly  anybody  I  haven't  treated  badly ;  there's 
nobody  I  really  cared  about.  Beaufort  Chance,  Mrs. 
Bonfill,  the  Flickers — yes,  Mortimer,  too — they  were 
all  to  do  something  for  me.  Look  what  they've  done ! 
Look  where  I  am  now!" 

She  threw  herself  into  a  chair,  and  sat  there  silent 
201 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

for  a  minute.  Peggy  rose  quietly,  shut  the  window, 
and  drew  the  curtains. 

"  They  all  believed  in  me  in  their  way/'  Trix  went 
on,  more  quietly,  more  drearily.  "They  thought  I 
should  do  my  part  of  the  bargain,  that  I  should  play 
fair.  The  bargains  weren't  a  good  sort,  and  I  didn't 
even  play  fair.  So  here  I  am!" 

Her  desolation  struck  Peggy  to  the  heart,  but  it 
seemed  too  vast  for  any  demonstration  of  affection  or 
efforts  at  consolation ;  Trix  would  not  want  to  be  kissed 
while  she  was  dissecting  her  own  soul. 

"That's  what  Fricker  meant  by  the  letter  he  wrote 
me.  He's  a  swindler.  So  was  I.  He  didn't  swindle 
me  till  I  swindled  him.  I  lied  to  him  just  as  I  lied  to 
Mortimer — just  in  the  same  way." 

"  Do  go  to  bed,  dear.  You'll  be  able  to  tell  me  better 
to-morrow." 

"I  know  now,"  Trix  went  on,  holding  her  head  be- 
tween her  hands — "  I  know  now  why  I  went  to  Danes 
Inn.  I  remember  now.  It  came  into  my  head  in  the 
train — as  I  stared  at  an  old  man  who  thought  I  was 
mad.  It  was  because  he  made  me  think  I  could  do  all 
that,  and  treat  people  and  the  world  like  that." 

"Airey  did?" 

"Perhaps  he  didn't  mean  to,  but  it  sounded  like 
that  to  me.  I  had  had  such  a  life  of  it;  nobody  had 
ever  given  me  a  chance.  He  seemed  to  tell  me  to  have 
my  chance,  to  take  my  turn.  So  I  did.  I  didn't  care 
about  any  of  them.  I  was  having  my  turn,  that's  all. 
It's  very  horrible,  very  horrible.  And  after  it  all,  here 
I  am!  But  that's  why  I  went  to  Danes  Inn."  She 
broke  off  and  burst  into  a  feeble  laugh.  "  You  should 
have  seen  Lord  Barmouth,  with  his  shawl  and  his 
lantern  and  his  spud!  I  believe  I  knocked  him  down." 
She  sprang  up  again  and  listened  to  the  clock  that 

202 


A   HOUSE    OF    REFUGE 

struck  two.  "I  wonder  what  Mortimer  is  doing!" 
She  stood  stock-still,  a  terror  on  her  face.  "  Will  they 
come  after  me?" 

"  They  won't  think  of  coming  here/'  Peggy  assured 
her,  soothingly. 

"It's  all  over  now,  you  know,  absolutely/'  said 
Trix.  "But  I  daren't  face  them.  I  daren't  see  any 
of  them.  I  should  like  never  to  see  anything  of  them 
again.  They're  things  to  forget.  Oh,  my  life  seems 
to  have  been  nothing  but  things  to  forget!  And  to- 
night I  remember  them  all,  so  clearly,  every  bit  of  them. 
I  wanted  something  different,  and  it's  turned  out  just 
the  same."  She  came  quickly  up  to  Peggy  and  im- 
plored her,  "  Will  you  hide  me  here  for  a  little  while?" 

"As  long  as  you  like.  Nobody  will  come  here." 
The  contrast  between  the  gay,  confident,  high-cour- 
aged  Trix  Trevalla  she  had  known  and  this  broken 
creature  seemed  terrible  to  Peggy. 

"I  came  here  because — "  A  sort  of  puzzle  fell  upon 
her  again. 

"Of  course  you  did.  We're  friends,"  said  Peggy, 
and  now  she  kissed  her.  All  that  Trix  was  saying 
might  be  dark  and  strange,  but  her  coming  was  nat- 
ural enough  in  Peggy's  eyes. 

"  Yes,  that's  why  I  came,"  cried  Trix,  eagerly  snatch- 
ing at  the  word.  "Because  we're  friends.  You're 
friends,  you  and  all  of  you.  You're  not  trying  to  get 
anything,  you'd  give  anything — you,  and  Mr.  Trent, 
and  Airey  Newton." 

Airey's  name  gave  Peggy  a  little  pang.  She  said 
nothing,  but  her  smile  was  sad. 

"  And  at  Barslett  I  thought  of  you  all— most  of  you 
yourself.  Somehow  you  seemed  to  me  the  only  pleas- 
ant thing  there  was  in  the  world ;  and  I  was  so  far — so 
far  away  from  you."  She  lowered  her  voice  suddenly 

203 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

to  a  cautious  whisper.  "I  must  tell  you  something, 
but  promise  me  to  repeat  it  to  nobody.  Promise  me." 

"Of  course  I  promise,"  said  Peggy,  readily. 

"I  think  I'm  ruined,"  whispered  Trix.  "I  think 
Fricker  has  ruined  me.  That's  what  I  didn't  dare  tell 
Mortimer.  I  had  a  letter  from  Fricker,  but  I've  lost  it, 
I  think,  or  left  it  somewhere.  Or  did  I  tear  it  up?  As 
far  as  I  could  understand  it,  it  looked  as  if  he'd  ruined 
me.  When  I've  paid  all  I  have  to  pay  I  think  I  shall 
have  hardly  any  money  at  all,  Peggy.  You  promise 
not  to  tell?" 

Peggy  was  more  in  her  element  now ;  her  smile  grew 
much  brighter. 

"  Yes,  I  promise,  and  you  needn't  bother  about  that. 
It  doesn't  matter  a  bit.  And,  besides,  I've  got  lots  of 
money.  Airey's  got  a  heap  of  money  of  mine." 

"Airey  Newton?"  She  stood  silent  a  moment, 
frowning,  as  though  she  were  thinking  of  him  or  of 
what  his  name  brought  into  her  mind.  But  in  the  end 
she  only  said  again,  "Yes,  I  think  I  must  be  ruined, 
too." 

It  was  evident  that  Peggy  could  comfort  her  on  that 
score  hardly  more  than  with  regard  to  the  troubles 
that  were  strange  and  mysterious.  Indeed,  Peggy  was 
almost  at  her  limit  of  endurance. 

"  If  you're  miserable  any  longer,  and  don't  go  quietly 
to  bed,  I  think  I  shall  begin  to  cry  and  never  stop," 
she  declared,  in  serious  warning. 

"Have  I  said  a  great  deal?"  asked  Trix,  wearily. 
"I'm  sorry;  I  had  to  say  it  to  some  one.  It  was  burn- 
ing me  up  inside,  you  know." 

"You  will  come  to  bed?"  Peggy  entreated. 

"Yes,  I'll  come  to  bed.  I've  got  nothing,  you  know. 
I  must  have  left  everything  there." 

This  problem  again  was  familiar;  Peggy  assured 
204 


A   HOUSE   OF    REFUGE 

her  that  there  would  be  no  trouble.  A  rather  hys- 
terical smile  came  on  Trix's  lips. 

"They'll  find  all  my  things  in  the  morning,"  she 
said.  "And  Lord  Barmouth  will  tell  them  how  I 
knocked  him  down!  And  Mrs.  Bonfill!  And  Lady 
Barmouth!" 

"It  would  be  rather  fun  to  be  there,"  suggested 
Peggy,  readily  advancing  to  the  brink  of  mirth. 

"And  Mortimer!" 

Peggy  looked  at  her  curiously  and  risked  the  ques- 
tion: 

"Did  you  care  at  all  for  him?" 

"I  can't  care  for  anybody — anybody,"  moaned  Trix, 
despairingly.  She  stretched  out  her  arms.  "Can 
you  teach  me,  Peggy?" 

"You  poor  old  dear,  come  to  bed,"  said  Peggy. 

Peggy  herself  was  not  much  for  bed  that  night. 
After  she  had  seen  Trix  between  the  sheets,  and  drop- 
ping off  to  sleep  in  exhaustion,  she  put  on  a  dressing- 
gown  and  came  back  to  her  favorite  chair.  Here  she 
sat  herself  Turkwise,  and  abandoned  the  remaining 
hour  of  darkness  to  reflection  and  cigarettes.  She 
wras  to  become,  it  seemed,  a  spectator  of  odd  things,  a 
repository  of  secrets ;  she  was  to  behold  strange  scenes 
in  the  world's  comedy.  It  was  by  no  seeking  of  hers ; 
she  had  but  gone  about  enjoying  herself,  and  all  this 
came  to  her ;  she  did  but  give  of  her  abundance  of  hap- 
piness, and  they  brought  to  her  trouble  in  exchange. 
Was  that,  too,  the  way  of  the  world?  Peggy  did  not 
complain.  No  consciousness  marred  her  beneficence; 
she  never  supposed  that  she  was  doing  or  could  do 
good.  And  it  was  all  interesting.  She  pictured  Bars- 
lett  in  its  consternation,  and  a  delighted  triumph  rose 
in  her;  she  would  fight  Barslett,  if  need  be,  for  Trix 
Trevalla.  For  the  present  it  was  enough  to  laugh  at 

205 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

abandoned  Barslett,  and  she  paid  it  that  tribute 
heartily. 

Yes,  there  were  her  secrets,  both  guarded  by  pledges 
of  honor!  Trix  was  ruined,  and  Airey  Newton  wras — 
what  he  must  be  declared  to  be.  The  thought  of  the 
two  made  connection  in  her  mind.  Trix  had  given 
her  the  link  that  held  them  together;  if  what  Trix  had 
told  were  true,  Airey  Newton  had  much  to  say  to  this 
night's  episode,  to  all  that  had  happened  at  Barslett 
and  before,  to  the  ruin  and  despair. 

"All  that  sounds  rather  absurd,"  murmured  Peggy, 
critically;  "but  I'm  beginning  to  think  that  that's  no 
reason  against  things  being  true." 

Because  things  all  round  were  rather  absurd — 
Elfreda  and  Horace  Harnack  there  at  Norwich,  Airey 
Newton  hugging  gold,  Barslett  aghast,  Mortimer 
Mervyn  forsaken,  brilliant  Trix  beaten,  battered, 
ruined,  a  fugitive  seeking  a  house  of  refuge,  and 
seeking  it  with  her — was  there  no  thread  to  this  laby- 
rinth? Peggy  might  have  the  clew  in  her  heart;  she 
had  it  not  in  her  head. 

Dawn  peeped  through  the  curtains,  and  she  tore  the 
hanging  folds  away  that  she  might  greet  its  coming 
and  welcome  the  beauty  of  it.  As  she  stood  looking, 
her  old,  confident  faith  that  joy  cometh  in  the  morn- 
ing rose  in  her.  Presently  she  turned  away  with  a 
merry  laugh,  and,  shrugging  her  shoulders  at  nature's 
grandmotherly  ways,  at  last  drove  herself  to  bed  at 
hard  on  five  o'clock.  There  was  no  sound  from  Trix 
Trevalla's  room  when  she  listened  on  the  way. 

Her  night  was  short;  eight  o'clock  found  her  in  the 
market,  buying  flowers,  flowers,  flowers;  the  room 
was  to  be  a  garden  for  Trix  to-day,  and  money  flew 
thousand- winged  from  Peggy's  purse.  She  had  just 
dealt  forth  her  last  half-sovereign  when  she  turned  to 

206 


A    HOUSE    OF   REFUGE 

find  Tommy  Trent  at  her  elbow;  he,  too,  was  laden 
with  roses. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Peggy,  rather  startled,  and  blush- 
ing a  little,  looking  down,  too,  at  her  unceremonious 
morning  attire. 

"Ah!"  said  Tommy,  pointing  at  her  flowers  and 
shaking  his  head. 

"Well,  you've  got  some,  too." 

"I  was  going  to  leave  them  for  you — just  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  lobsters.  What  have  you  bought 
those  for?" 

"They're  for  her,"  said  Peggy.  "I  shall  like  to 
have  yours  for  myself.'" 

"Nobody  ever  needed  them  less,  but  I'll  bring  them 
round,"  said  he. 

They  walked  together  to  her  door.  Then  Tommy 
said: 

"Well,  you  can  tell  me?" 

"I  can  tell  you  part  of  it — not  all,"  said  Peggy. 

"Who  is  she,  then?" 

"Nobody  else  is  to  know."  She  whispered  to  him: 
"Trix  Trevalla!" 

Tommy  considered  a  moment.     Then  he  remarked: 

"  You'll  probably  find  that  you've  got  to  send  for  me. " 

Peggy  raised  her  brows  and  looked  at  him  derisively. 
He  returned  her  gaze  placidly,  with  a  pleasant  smile. 
Peggy  laughed  gently. 

"  If  Mrs.  Trevalla  is  so  foolish,  I  don't  mind,"  she  said. 

Tommy  strolled  off  very  happy.  "  The  thing  moves, 
I  think,"  he  mused,  as  he  went  his  way.  For  the  more 
love  she  had  for  others,  the  more  and  the  better  might 
she  some  day  give  to  him.  It  is  a  treasure  that  grows 
by  spending :  such  was  his  reflection,  and  it  seems  but 
fair  to  record  it,  since  so  many  instances  of  a  different 
trend  of  thought  have  been  exhibited. 

207 


XV 

NOT  EVERYBODY'S  FOOTBALL 

LORD  BARMOUTH  was  incapable  of  speaking  of 
it — incapable.  He  said  so,  and  honestly  believed 
himself.  Indeed,  it  is  possible  that  under  less  practised 
hands  he  would  have  revealed  nothing.  Lady  Blix- 
worth,  cordially  agreeing  that  the  less  said  the  better, 
extracted  a  tolerably  full  account  of  the  whole  affair. 

"She  did,  she  actually  did,"  he  assured  her,  as 
though  trying  to  overcome  an  inevitable  incredulity. 
" I  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  path,  and  she" — 
he  paused,  seeking  a  word,  something  to  convey  the 
monstrous  fact. 

"Shoved  you  off  it?"  suggested  Lady  Blixworth,  in 
no  difficulty  for  the  necessary  word. 

"She  pushed  me  violently  aside.     I  all  but  fell!" 

"Then  she  scuttled  off?" 

This  time  he  accepted  the  description.  "Exactly 
what  she  did — exactly.  I  can  describe  it  in  no  other 
way.  She  must  have  been  mad!" 

"  What  can  have  driven  her  mad  at  Barslett?"  asked 
his  friend,  innocently. 

"Nothing.  We  were  kindness  itself.  Her  troubles 
were  not  due  to  her  visit  to  us.  We  made  her  abso- 
lutely one  of  the  family." 

"You  tried,  you  mean,"  she  suggested. 

"Precisely.  We  tried — with  what  success  you  see. 
It  is  heart-breaking — heart — " 

208 


NOT   EVERYBODY'S    FOOTBALL 

"And  what  did  Mortimer  say?" 

"I  didn't  tell  him  till  the  next  morning.  I  can't 
dwell  on  the  scene.  He  ran  to  her  room  himself;  I 
followed.  It  was  in  gross  disorder." 

"No!" 

"I  assure  you,  yes.  There  was  no  letter,  no  word 
for  him.  Presently  his  mother  prevailed  on  him  to 
withdraw." 

"It  must  have  been  a  shock." 

"  I  prefer  to  leave  it  undescribed.  Nobody  could  at- 
tempt to  comfort  him  but  our  good  Sarah  Bonfill." 

"Ah,  dearest  Sarah  has  a  wonderful  way!" 

"As  the  day  wore  on,  she  induced  him  to  discuss 
the  Trans-Euphratic  Railway  scheme,  in  which  he  is 
greatly  interested.  He  will  be  a  long  while  recovering. ' ' 

Repressing  her  inclination  to  seize  an  obvious  open- 
ing for  a  flippant  question,  Lady  Blixworth  gazed 
sympathetically  at  the  afflicted  father. 

"And  your  poor  wife?"  she  asked,  in  gentle  tones. 

"  A  collapse  —  nothing  less  than  a  collapse,  Viola. 
The  deception  that  Mrs.  Trevalla  practised  —  well,  I 
won't  say  a  word.  I  had  come  to  like  her,  and  it  is  too 
painful — too  painful.  But  there  is  no  doubt  that  she 
wrtfully  deceived  us  on  at  least  two  occasions.  The 
first  we  forgave  freely  and  frankly;  we  treated  it  as  if 
it  had  never  been.  The  second  time  was  on  that  even- 
ing itself ;  she  misrepresented  the  result  of  certain  bus- 
iness matters  in  which  she  had  engaged — " 

"And  ran  away  to  avoid  being  found  out?"  guessed 
Lady  Blixworth. 

"I  think — I  may  say,  I  hope — that  she  was  for  the 
time  not  responsible  for  her  actions." 

"Where  is  she  now?" 

"I  have  no  information.     We  don't  desire  to  know. 
We  have  done  with  her." 
«*  209 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

"  Does  Mortimer  feel  like  that,  too?" 

"Don't  do  him  the  injustice — the  injustice,  Viola — 
of  supposing  anything  else.  He  knows  what  is  due 
to  himself.  Fortunately  the  acute  position  of  public 
affairs  is  a  distraction." 

"  Do  tell  him  to  come  here.  We  shall  be  so  glad  to 
see  him,  Audrey  and  I.  She  admires  him  so  much, 
you  know,  and  I — well,  I've  known  him  since  he  was  a 
boy.  Does  Sarah  know  nothing  more  about  Trix's 
reasons  for  behaving  in  such  a  fashion?" 

"In  Sarah's  opinion  Mrs.  Trevalla  has  ruined  her- 
self by  speculation." 

Lady  Blixworth  was  startled  from  artifice  by  the 
rapture  of  finding  her  suspicions  justified. 

"Flicker!"  she  exclaimed,  triumphantly. 

"There  is  every  reason  to  believe  so — every  reason." 
There  was  at  least  one  very  good  one — namely,  that 
Mrs.  Bonfill  had  pieced  together  Mr.  Fricker's  letter, 
read  it,  and  communicated  the  contents  to  Lady  Bar- 
mouth.  Lord  Barmouth  saw  no  need  to  be  explicit 
about  this;  he  had  refused  to  read  the  letter  himself, 
or  to  let  Mrs.  Bonfill  speak  to  him  about  it.  It  is,  how- 
ever, difficult  for  a  man  not  to  listen  to  his  wife. 

"  Well,  you  never  were  enthusiastic  about  the  match, 
were  you?" 

"  She  wasn't  quite  one  of  us,  but  I  had  come  to  like 
her."  He  paused,  and  then,  after  a  struggle,  broke 
out  candidly,  "I  feel  sorry  for  her,  Viola." 

"It  does  you  credit,"  said  Lady  Blixworth,  and  she 
really  thought  it  did. 

"  In  a  sense  she  is  to  be  pitied.  It  is  inevitable  that 
a  man  like  Mortimer  should  require  much  from  the 
woman  who  is  to  be  his  wife.  It  is  inevitable  She 
couldn't  reach  his  standard." 

"Nor  yours." 

210 


NOT    EVERYBODY'S    FOOTBALL 

"Our  standard  for  him  is  very  high — very  high.' 
He  sighed.     "But  I'm  sorry  for  her." 

"What  does  Sarah  say?" 

Lord  Barmouth  looked  a  little  puzzled.  He  leaned 
forward  and  observed,  confidentially,  "  It  seems  to  me, 
Viola,  that  women  of  high  principle  occasionally  de- 
velop a  certain  severity  of  judgment — I  call  it  a  sever- 
ity." 

"So  do  I,"  nodded  Lady  Blixworth,  heartily. 

Barmouth  passed  rapidly  from  the  dangers  of  such 
criticism. 

"It  is  probably  essential  in  the  interests  of  society," 
he  added,  with  a  return  of  dignity. 

"Oh,  probably,"  she  conceded,  with  a  carelessness 
appropriate  to  the  subject.  "Do  you  think  there's 
another  man?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Viola."  He  was  obviously 
astonished,  and  inclined  to  be  offended. 

"Any  man  she  liked  or  had  liked,  you  know." 

"She  was  engaged  to  my  son." 

That  certainly  sounded  final;  but  Lady  Blixworth 
was  not  abashed. 

"An  engagement  is  just  what  brings  the  idea  of  the 
other  man  back  sometimes,"  she  observed. 

"We  have  no  reason  to  suspect  it  in  this  case.  I 
will  not  suspect  it  without  definite  grounds.  In  spite 
of  everything,  let  us  be  just." 

Lady  Blixworth  agreed  to  be  just,  with  a  rather 
weary  air.  "Do  give  my  best  love  to  dear  Lady  Bar- 
mouth,  and  do  send  Mortimer  to  see  me,"  she  implored 
her  distressed  visitor  when  he  took  his  leave. 

The  coast  was  clear.  If  she  knew  anjrthing  of  the 
heart  of  man — as  she  conceived  she  did — the  juncture 
of  affairs  was  not  unfavorable;  ill-used  lovers  may 
sometimes  be  induced  to  seek  softer  distractions  than 

211 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Trans-Euphratic  or  other  railways.  She  telegraphed 
to  Audrey  Pollington  to  cut  short  a  visit  which  she 
was  paying  in  the  country.  At  any  rate,  Audrey  would 
not  have  ruined  herself  nor  run  away.  In  a  spirit  not 
over -complimentary  either  to  Audrey  or  to  Barslett, 
Lady  Blixworth  decided  that  they  would  just  suit  each 
other. 

"The  marriage  arranged,  etc.,  will  not  take  place." 
When  a  lady  disappears  by  night,  and  sends  no  com- 
munication save  a  telegram,  giving  no  address  and 
asking  that  her  luggage  may  be  consigned  to  Charing 
Cross  station,  "to  be  called  for,"  it  is  surely  justifiable 
to  insert  that  curt  intimation  of  happiness  frustrated 
or  ruin  escaped ;  the  doubt  in  which  light  to  look  at  it 
must  be  excused,  since  it  represents  faithfully  the  state 
of  Mervyn's  mind.  He  still  remembered  Trix  as  he 
had  thought  her,  still  had  visions  of  her  as  what  he 
had  meant  her  to  become;  with  the  actual  Trix  of 
fact  he  was  naturally  in  a  fury  of  outraged  self- 
esteem. 

"I  would  have  forgiven  her,"  he  told  Mrs.  Bonfill, 
not  realizing  at  all  that  this  ceremony  or  process  was 
the  very  thing  which  Trix  had  been  unable  to  face. 
"  In  a  little  while  we  might  have  forgotten  it,  if  she  had 
shown  proper  feeling." 

"She's  the  greatest  disappointment  I  ever  had  in 
my  life,"  declared  Mrs.  Bonfill.  "Not  excepting  even 
Beaufort  Chance !  I  needn't  say  that  I  wash  my  hands 
of  her,  Mortimer."  Mrs.  Bonfill  was  very  sore;  peo- 
ple would  take  advantage  of  Trix's  escapade  to  ques- 
tion the  social  infallibility  of  her  sponsor. 

"We  have  no  alternative,"  he  agreed,  gloomily. 

"  You  mustn't  think  any  more  about  her ;  you  have 
your  career." 

"I  hate  the  gossip,"  he  broke  out,  fretfully. 

212 


NOT    EVERYBODY'S    FOOTBALL 

"  If  you  say  nothing,  it  will  die  away.  For  the  mo- 
ment it  is  unavoidable — you  are  so  conspicuous." 

"  I  shall  fulfil  all  my  engagements  as  if  nothing  had 
happened." 

"Much  the  best  way,"  she  agreed,  recognizing  a 
stolid  courage  about  him  which  commanded  some  ad- 
miration. He  was  facing  what  he  hated  most  in  the 
world  —  ridicule;  he  was  forced  to  realize  one  of  the 
things  that  a  man  least  likes  to  realize — that  he  has 
failed  to  manage  a  woman  whom  he  has  undertaken 
to  manage.  No  eccentricities  of  sin  or  folly  in  her,  no 
repeated  failures  to  find  anything  amiss  in  himself, 
can  take  away  the  sting. 

"I  cannot  blame  myself,"  he  said  more  than  once  to 
Mrs.  Bonfill;  but  the  conviction  of  his  blamelessness 
yielded  no  comfort. 

She  understood  his  feeling,  and  argued  against  it; 
but  it  remained  with  him  still,  in  spite  of  all  she  could 
say.  He  had  always  been  satisfied  with  himself;  he 
was  very  ill-satisfied  now.  Some  malicious  spirit  in 
himself  seemed  to  join  in  the  chorus  of  ill-natured 
laughter  from  outside,  which  his  pride  and  sensitive- 
ness conjured  to  his  ears.  Beaufort  Chance  had  walk- 
ed the  streets  once,  fearing  the  whispers  of  passers- 
by  saying  that  he  had  been  proved  a  rogue.  Mervyn 
walked  them,  and  sat  in  his  place  in  the  House,  im- 
agining that  the  whispers  said  that  he  had  been  made 
a  fool.  But  he  faced  all.  Barslett  bred  courage,  if 
not  brilliancy;  he  faced  even  Beaufort  Chance,  who 
sat  below  the  Gangway,  and  screwed  round  on  him  a 
vicious  smile  the  first  time  he  appeared  after  the  an- 
nouncement. 

On  the  whole  he  behaved  well,  but  he  had  not  even 
that  glimmer  of  pity  for  Trix  which  had  shone  through 
his  father's  horrified  pompousness.  The  movements 

213 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

of  her  mind  remained  an  utter  blank  to  him ;  why  she 
had  lied,  an  unsolved  mystery. 

Amid  all  his  humiliation  and  his  anger,  he  thanked 
Heaven  that  such  a  woman  would  never  now  be  mistress 
of  Barslett;  the  affair  constituted  a  terrible  warning 
against  experiments  in  marriage.  If  the  question 
arose  again — and  in  view  of  Barslett  it  must — he  would 
follow  the  beaten  track.  In  the  bottom  of  his  heart — 
though  he  confessed  it  to  nobody,  no,  not  to  his  par- 
ents nor  to  Mrs.  Bonfill — he  had  something  of  the  feel- 
ing of  an  ordinarily  sober  and  straitlaced  young  man 
who  has  been  beguiled  into  "making  a  night  of  it" 
with  rowdy  companions,  and  in  the  morning  hours 
undergoes  the  consequences  of  his  unwonted  outbreak : 
his  head  aches,  he  is  exposed  to  irreverent  comment, 
he  is  heartily  determined  to  forswear  such  courses. 
Mervyn  did  not  dream  of  seeking  Trix,  or  of  offering 
an  amnesty.  To  his  mind  there  was  no  alternative; 
he  washed  his  hands  of  her,  like  Mrs.  Bonfill. 

Society  took  its  cue  from  these  authoritative  ex- 
amples, and  was  rather  in  a  hurry  to  declare  its  at- 
titude. It  shows  in  such  cases  something  of  the  ti- 
midity and  prudery  of  people  who  are  themselves  not 
entirely  proof  against  criticism,  and  are  consequently 
much  afraid  of  the  noscitur  a  sociis  test  being  applied 
to  them.  Even  in  moral  matters  it  displays  this  readi- 
ness to  take  alarm,  this  anxiety  to  vindicate  itself; 
much  more  so,  of  course,  in  the  case  of  conduct  which 
it  terms,  with  vague  but  unmeasured  reprobation, 
"impossible."  Trix's  behavior  had  been  "impossi- 
ble" in  the  highest  degree,  and  there  could  be  but  one 
sentence.  Yet,  though  society  was  eager  to  dissociate 
itself  from  such  proceedings,  it  was  not  eager  to  stop 
talking  about  them ;  its  curiosity  and  its  desire  to  learn 
the  whole  truth  were  insatiable.  Trix  was  banned; 

214 


NOT    EVERYBODY'S    FOOTBALL 

her  particular  friends  became  very  popular.  Lady 
Blixworth  held  levees  of  women  who  wanted  to  know. 
Peggy  Kyle's  appearances  were  greeted  with  enthu- 
siasm. Where  was  Mrs.  Trevalla?  How  was  Mrs. 
Trevalla?  Who  (this  was  an  afterthought,  coming 
very  late  in  the  day,  but  demanded  by  the  facts  of  the 
case)  was  Mrs.  Trevalla,  after  all?  And,  of  course,  the 
truth  had  yet  to  be  told?  Society  held  the  cheerful 
conviction  that  it  by  no  means  knew  the  worst. 

Any  knowledge  Lady  Blixworth  had  she  professed 
to  be  at  the  disposal  of  her  callers ;  she  chose  to  give  it 
in  a  form  most  calculated  to  puzzle  and  least  likely  to 
satisfy.  "There  was  a  difference,  but  not  amounting 
to  a  quarrel."  "So  far  as  we  know,  she  has  not  left 
London."  "She  was  certainly  alone  when  she  started 
from  Barslett."  Utterances  like  these  wasted  the  time 
of  the  inquirers  and  beguiled  Lady  Blixworth's.  "I'm 
going  to  stay  with  them  soon,"  she  would  add,  "but 
probably  anything  I  may  hear  will  be  in  confidence." 
Such  a  remark  as  that  was  actively  annoying.  "Oh, 
Audrey  goes  with  me,  yes,"  might  be  a  starting-point 
for  conjecture  as  to  the  future,  but  threw  no  light  on 
the  elusive  past.  More  than  one  lady  was  heard  to 
declare  that  she  considered  Lady  Blixworth  an  exas- 
perating woman. 

Peggy's  serene  silence  served  as  well  as  these  in- 
genious speeches.  With  an  audacious  truthfulness, 
which  only  her  popularity  with  men  made  it  safe  to 
employ,  she  told  the  affronted  world  that  she  knew 
'everything,  but  could  say  nothing.  An  assertion  usu- 
ally considered  to  be  a  transparent  and  impudent  mask 
of  ignorance  compelled  unwilling  belief  when  it  came 
from  her  lips ;  but  surely  she  could  not  persist  in  such 
an  attitude?  It  cut  at  the  roots  of  social  intercourse. 
Peggy  was  incessantly  abused  and  incessantly  invited. 

215 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

She  had  frocks  now  to  respond  to  every  call,  and  at 
every  call  she  came.  She  went  even  to  houses  which 
she  had  shown  no  anxiety  to  frequent  before,  and 
which  seemed  to  offer  the  reward  neither  of  pleasure 
nor  of  prestige  for  going. 

"That  child  is  up  to  something,"  opined  Lady  Blix- 
worth,  after  a  week  or  two  of  this ;  and  one  day,  at  her 
own  house,  she  kept  Peggy  back  and  took  her  firmly 
by  the  shoulders. 

"  What  is  it  you  want?"  she  asked,  squarely.  "  Why 
have  you  been  going  to  the  Moresby- Jenkins'  and  the 
Eli-Simpkinsons',  and  places  of  that  sort?" 

Peggy  looked  at  her  with  a  shrewd  kindness,  weigh- 
ing the  advantages  of  still  more  candor. 

"I  want  to  meet  Mr.  Fricker,"  she  confessed,  at 
last. 

"That  means  you  are  in  communication  with 
Trix?"  An  inspiration  came  upon  her.  "Heavens, 
I  believe  she's  living  with  you!" 

"Yes,  she  is.  She  said  I  might  tell  you  if  I  liked, 
though  she  doesn't  want  it  generally  known.  But 
can  you  help  me  to  meet  Mr.  Fricker?" 

"Are  you  Trix's  ambassador?" 

"No,  no.  She  knows  nothing  about  it.  She'd  be 
furious." 

Lady  Blixworth  released  her  manual  hold  of  her 
prisoner  and  sat  down,  but  she  kept  a  detaining  eye 
on  her. 

"Are  you  going  to  throw  yourself  at  Fricker's  feet 
and  ask  him  to  give  Trix's  money  back?" 

"Do  you  know  about — ?" 

"  Yes,  Lord  Barmouth  told  me ;  and  very  much  I've 
enjoyed  keeping  it  to  myself.  I  can  feel  for  Trix;  but 
if  you  want  a  lesson,  my  dear,  it's  this — the  world 
isn't  everybody's  football.  You  won't  do  any  good 

216 


NOT    EVERYBODY'S    FOOTBALL 

by  clasping  Pricker's  knees,  however  pretty  you  may 
look." 

"Haven't  the  least  intention  of  it,"  said  Peggy, 
coolly.  "I  shall  go  purely  on  a  business  footing." 
She  paused  a  minute.  "Trix  sent  you  her  love,  and 
would  like  to  see  you  in  a  little  while." 

"I'll  write  to  her  from  Barslett."  Lady  Blixworth 
smiled  reflectively. 

"And  about  Mr.  Fricker?" 

"It's  a  business  matter — asK  him  for  an  appoint- 
ment." 

"I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  Peggy,  ignoring  the 
irony.  "That's  the  simplest  thing,  isn't  it?" 

"  Really,  I  believe,  the  way  you'll  do  it,  it  Tl  be  the 
best.  And  you  might  try  the  knees,  perhaps,  after  all. 
He's  got  a  heart,  I  suppose,  and  an  ugly  wife  I  know. 
So  he  must  be  accessible." 

"You're  quite  wrong  in  that  idea,"  persisted  Peggy. 

"  Of  course,  you  could  get  a  card  for  something  where 
he'd  be  easily  enough,  but — " 

"The  appointment  for  me!  Thanks  so  much,  Lady 
Blixworth.  Without  your  advice  I  should  have  been 
afraid." 

"  Give  Trix  my  love,  and  tell  her  I  think  she  deserves 
it  all." 

"You  don't  know  what  a  state  she's  in,"  urged 
Peggy,  reproachfully. 

"A  thoroughly  unscrupulous  woman — and,  bad  as 
times  are,  I'd  have  given  a  hundred  pounds  to  see  her 
shove  Lord  Barmouth  out  of  the  way  and  skedaddle 
down  that  road." 

"You'd  be  nice  to  her,  but  everybody  else  is  horrid." 

"She  deserves  it  all,"  was  Lady  Blixworth's  inex- 
orable verdict. 

Peggy  looked  at  her  with  meditative  eyes. 
217 


THE   INTRUSIONS    OF   PEGGY 

"Her  obvious  duty  was  to  marry  him  and  please 
herself  afterwards/'  Lady  Blixworth  explained.  "We 
must  have  our  rules  kept,  Peggy,  else  where  should 
we  be?  And  because  we  were  all  furious  with  him  for 
marrying  her,  we're  all  the  more  furious  with  her  now 
for  throwing  him  over.  Nothing  is  more  offensive 
than  to  see  other  people  despise  what  you'd  give  your 
eyes  to  have." 

"She  didn't  despise  it.  She's  very  unhappy  at  not 
having  it." 

"At  not  having  it  for  nothing,  I  suppose?  I've  no 
patience  with  her." 

"Yes,  you  have — and  lots  of  understanding.  And 
you're  rather  fond  of  her,  too.  Well,  I  shall  go  and  see 
Mr.  Fricker." 

Peggy's  doubts  as  to  how  far  Lady  Blixworth  re- 
vealed her  own  views  about  Trix  Trevalla  may  be 
shared,  but  it  cannot  be  questioned  that  she  expressed 
those  of  the  world,  which  does  not  like  being  made  a 
football  of  unless  by  the  very  great  or  (perhaps)  the 
very  rich.  The  verdict  came  in  the  same  tones  from 
all  quarters.  Lord  Glentorly  gave  it  to  Mrs.  Bonfill 
when  he  said,  "She  was  a  pirate  craft;  it's  a  good 
thing  she's  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea."  Sir  Stapleton 
Stapleton-Staines  ventured  to  suggest  it  to  Lord  Bar- 
mouth  himself  by  quoting,  with  delicate  reticence, 
half  of  that  proverb  of  which  he  had  before  approved. 
Fricker  did  not  put  it  into  words,  but  he  listened  smil- 
ing while  his  wife  and  daughter  put  it  into  a  great 
many — which  were  very  forcible  and  did  not  lack  the 
directness  of  popular  speech.  All  the  people  whom 
Trix  had  sought,  in  one  way  or  another,  to  use  for  her 
own  purposes  pointed  to  her  fall  as  a  proof,  first,  of  her 
wickedness,  and,  secondly,  of  their  own  superiority  to 
any  such  menial  function.  In  face  of  such  an  obvious 

218 


NOT    EVERYBODY'S    FOOTBALL 

moral  it  seems  enough  to  remain  approvingly  silent; 
to  elaborate  it  is  but  to  weaken  the  force  of  its  simple 
majesty. 

And  the  sinner  herself?  She  sat  in  Airey  Newton's 
room  in  Danes  Inn,  and  owned  that  the  world  was  right. 
She  was  no  more  the  draggled,  hysterical  woman  who 
had  sought  refuge  with  Peggy  Ryle.  Her  boxes  had 
been  called  for  at  Charing  Cross ;  her  nerves  were  better 
under  control.  She  was  chaffing  Airey  Newton,  telling 
him  what  a  failure  her  sally  into  society  had  proved, 
declaring  that  on  the  strength  of  his  advice  at  Paris 
she  held  him  responsible  for  it  all. 

"You  gave  me  a  most  selfish  gospel,"  she  laughed. 
"  I  acted  on  it,  and  here  I  am,  back  on  your  hands,  Mr. 
Newton." 

He  was  puzzled  by  her,  for  he  could  not  help  guess- 
ing that  her  fall  had  been  severe.  Perfect  as  her  self- 
control  now  was,  the  struggle  had  left  its  mark  on  her 
face;  her  gay  manner  did  not  hide  the  serious  truth 
that  lay  behind. 

"Oh,  it's  no  use  beating  about  the  bush,"  she  de- 
clared, laughing.  "I've  played  my  game,  and  I've 
lost  it.  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?" 

"Well,  I  suppose  life  isn't  altogether  at  an  end?"  he 
suggested. 

"We'll  hope  not,"  smiled  Trix;  but  her  voice  was 
not  hopeful. 

"You  were  engaged,  and  you're  not.  It  seems  to 
amount  to  that." 

"  That's  putting  it  very  baldly.  A  little  bit  more, 
perhaps." 

How  much  more  she  did  not  tell  him.  She  said 
nothing  of  Fricker,  nothing  of  ruin;  and  no  rumors 
had  reached  Danes  Inn.  He  saw  that  her  vanity  was 
wounded,  he  guessed  that  perhaps  her  affections  might 

219 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

be;  but  he  treated  her  still  as  the  well-off,  fashionable 
woman  who  for  a  whim  came  to  visit  his  poor  lodgings, 
just  as  she  still  treated  him  as  the  poverty-stricken 
man  who  might  advise  others  well  or  ill,  but  anyhow 
made  little  enough  out  of  the  world  for  himself. 

"  Well,  you  seem  quite  happy  without  these  vanities," 
she  said.  "  Why  shouldn't  I  be?"  She  leaned  back 
and  seemed  to  look  at  him  witji  a  grateful  sense  of 
peace  and  quiet.  "And  you  don't  abuse  me!  You 
must  know  I've  been  very  bad,  but  you  greet  me  like  a 
friend." 

"Your  badness  is  nothing  to  me,  if  you  have  been 
bad." 

"Is  that  indifference — or  fidelity?"  she  asked,  lightly 
still,  but  with  a  rather  anxious  expression  in  her  eyes. 

For  a  moment  he  was  silent,  staring  out  of  his  big 
window  into  the  big  window  opposite.  In  the  end  he 
did  not  answer  her  question,  but  put  one  in  his  turn : 

"  So  you  hold  me  responsible?" 

There  must  have  been  something  more  than  raillery 
in  her  original  charge,  for  when  he  put  his  question 
gravely  she  answered  it  in  a  like  way. 

"  You  touched  some  impulse  in  me  that  hadn't  been 
touched  before.  Of  course  you  didn't  mean  to  do  it. 
You  didn't  know  the  sort  of  person  you  were  talking 
to.  But  I  thought  over  what  you  said,  and  it  chimed 
in  with  something  in  me.  So  I  went  and — and  had  my 
fling." 

"Ah!"  he  murmured,  vaguely,  but  he  turned  now 
and  looked  at  her. 

She  had  meant  to  give  him  no  confidence,  but  he 
drew  it  from  her. 

"I've  been  very  unhappy,"  she  confessed.  "I  was 
very  unhappy  a  good  deal  of  the  time,  even  when  I 
was  prosperous.  And  I've — I've  told  a  lot  of  lies." 

220 


NOT    EVERYBODY'S    FOOTBALL 

The  blunt  statement  wrung  a  passing  smile  from 
him. 

"And  if  I'd  gone  on  I  must  have  told  many  more." 

"  My  responsibility  is  evidently  heavy. "  He  paused, 
and  then  added,  "  There  are  a  good  many  things  that 
make  one  lie." 

"Not  in  Danes  Inn?"     She  laughed  a  little. 

"Yes,  even  in  Danes  Inn,"  said  he,  frowning. 

"  I  don't  think  so,  and  I'm  glad  to  be  here,"  she  said. 
"And  some  day,  when  I've  more  courage,  I'll  make  a 
full  confession  and  ask  you  to  be  friends  still.  I  often 
thought  about  you  and  Peggy  and  the  rest." 

He  had  begun  to  smoke,  and  did  not  look  at  her  again 
till  the  long  silence  that  followed  her  last  words  caught 
his  attention.  When  he  turned,  she  sat  looking 
straight  in  front  of  her ;  he  saw  that  her  eyes  were  full 
of  tears.  He  put  down  his  pipe  and  came  slowly  over 
to  her. 

"It's  been  a  bit  worse  than  you've  told  me,  Mrs. 
Trevalla?"  he  suggested. 

"Yes,  a  little  bit,"  she  owned.  "And — and  I'm  not 
cured  yet.  I  still  want  to  go  back.  There,  I  tell  you 
that!  I  haven't  told  even  Peggy.  I've  told  her  all 
my  sins,  but  I've  not  told  her  that  I'm  impenitent.  I 
should  like  to  try  again.  What  else  is  there  for  me  to 
try  for?  You  have  your  wrork;  what  have  I?  I  can't 
get  my  thoughts  away  from  it  all." 

She  regarded  him  with  a  piteous  appeal  as  she  con- 
fessed that  she  was  not  yet  chastened. 

"  You  can  go  back  and  have  another  shot,"  he  said, 
slowly. 

Trix  would  not  tell  him  why  that  was  impossible. 

"I'm  afraid  the  door's  shut  in  my  face,"  was  as 
definite  as  she  could  bring  herself  to  be. 

"  Well,  we  shall  have  the  benefit,  perhaps. " 

221 


THE   INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

"  If  I  told  you  all  about  it,  I  don't  think  you'd  want 
me  here." 

"If  we  all  knew  all  about  one  another,  should  we 
ever  pay  visits?" 

"  Never,  I  suppose.  Or  face  it  out  and  live  together 
always !  But,  seriously,  I  should  be  afraid  to  tell  you. " 

"Don't  idealize  me." 

The  words  were  curt,  the  tone  hard;  there  was  no 
appearance  of  joking  about  him.  There  was  a  dreary, 
disheartened  sadness  on  his  face,  as  of  a  man  who 
struggled  always  and  struggled  in  vain,  who  was  suf- 
fering some  defeat  that  shamed  him.  He  had  come 
near  to  her ;  she  reached  out  her  hand  and  touched  his. 

"Don't  look  like  that,"  she  begged.  "  I  don't  know 
why  it  is,  and  you  make  me  more  unhappy." 

He  turned  a  sudden  glance  on  her;  their  eyes  met 
full  for  an  instant;  then  both  turned  away.  But  the 
look  that  passed  between  them  had  held  something 
new;  it  made  a  difference  to  them;  it  seemed  in  some 
sort  to  change  the  feeling  of  the  dingy  room.  Their 
eyes  had  -spoken  of  a  possibility  that  had  suddenly 
come  into  the  minds  of  both,  and  had  surprised  the 
chance  of  expression  before  they  could  hinder  it.  Hence- 
forward it  must  at  least  be  common  ground  with  them 
that  the  unhappiness  of  each  was  a  matter  of  deep 
concern  to  the  other.  But  both  crushed  down  the  im- 
pulse and  the  longing  to  which  that  knowledge  seemed 
naturally  to  give  birth.  Trix  was  not  penitent ;  Airey  's 
battle  still  ended  in  defeat.  Their  pretence  was  against 
them.  She  was  of  the  rich.  How  could  he  bear  to 
change  his  life  for  hers?  She  looked  round  the  dingy 
room.  Was  this  the  existence  to  which  she  must  come, 
a  woman  ruined,  and  content  with  these  four  walls? 
They  were  not  boy  and  girl  that  the  mere  thought  of 
love  could  in  a  moment  sweep  all  obstacles  away.  Each 

222 


felt  chains  whereof  the  other  knew  nothing.  It  was 
not  hope  that  filled  them,  but  rather  the  forlorn  sense 
of  loss — that  for  them,  as  they  were,  such  a  thing  could 
not  be ;  and  they  were  ashamed  to  own  that  the  idea  of 
it  had  been  interchanged  between  them. 

Trix  ended  the  constrained  silence  that  had  followed 
on  the  speech  of  eyes. 

"Well,  we  must  take  the  world  as  we  find  it,"  she 
said/ with  a  little  sigh.  "  At  least,  I've  tried  to  make  it 
what  I  wanted,  and,  as  you  see,  without  success." 
She  rose  to  go,  but  rose  reluctantly. 

"Is  it  ourselves  or  the  world?"  he  asked. 

"  We're  the  world,  I  suppose,  like  other  people,  aren't 
we?  I  don't  feel  too  good  to  belong  to  it." 

"  If  we're  a  bit  of  it,  we  ought  to  have  more  to  say  to 
it,"  he  suggested,  smiling  again. 

Trix  shook  her  head. 

"It's  too  big,"  she  objected,  sorrowfully.  "Big  and 
hard,  and,  I  believe,  most  horribly  just." 

Airey  stroked  his  beard  in  meditation  over  this. 

"I'm  inclined  to  think  it  is  rather  just.  But  I'll  be 
hanged  if  there's  an  iota  of  generosity  about  it !"  said  he. 

She  held  out  her  hand  in  farewell,  and  could  not 
help  meeting  his  eyes  once  again ;  those  deep-set,  tired, 
kindly  eyes  had  a  new  attraction  for  her  since  her  wan- 
derings and  adventures;  they  had  the  strong  appeal 
of  offering  and  asking  help  all  in  the  same  look.  She 
could  not  prevent  herself  from  saying: 

"May  I  come  again?" 

"  You  must  come,"  said  Airey  Newton,  in  a  low  voice 

He  was  left  resolved  that  she  of  all  the  world  should 
never  know  his  secret.  She  went  back  saying  that  of 
all  the  world  he  at  least  should  never  learn  how  sore  a 
fool  she  had  been.  Because  of  that  glance  between 
them  these  purposes  were  immutable  in  both. 

223 


XVI 

MORAL  LESSONS 

MRS.  BONFILL  sore  at  the  damage  to  her  infalli- 
bility; Barmouth  still  feeling  that  rude  and  sac- 
rilegious thrust  at  ennobled  ribs;  Lady  Barmouth 
unable  to  look  her  neighbors  in  the  face ;  Mervyn  fear- 
ing the  whispers  and  the  titters ;  Lady  Blixworth  again 
wearily  donning  her  armor,  betaking  herself  to  Bars- 
lett,  goading  Audrey  Pollington  into  making  herself 
attractive;  the  Glentorlys  and  a  score  more  of  exalted 
families  feeling  that  they  had  been  sadly  "let  in," 
treacherously  beguiled  into  petting  and  patronizing 
an  impossible  person;  Airey  Newton  oppressed  with 
scorn  of  himself,  yet  bound  in  his  chains;  Peggy  per- 
suaded that  something  must  be  done,  and  shaken  out 
of  her  usual  happiness  by  the  difficulty  of  doing  it :  all 
these  people,  and  no  doubt  more  besides,  proved  that 
if  the  world  is  not  a  football  for  every  wanton  toe,  neither 
is  it  an  immovable,  unimpressionable  mass,  on  which 
individual  effort  and  the  vagaries  of  this  man  or  that 
make  absolutely  no  impression.  Trix's  raid  had  met 
with  defeat,  but  it  had  left  its  effect  on  many  lives,  its 
marks  in  many  quarters.  A  sense  of  this  joined  with 
the  recognition  of  her  own  present  wretched  state  to 
create  in  Trix  the  feelings  with  which  she  regarded  her 
past  proceedings  and  their  outcome.  So  many  people 
must  have  grudges  against  her;  if  she  was  not  peni- 
tent, she  was  frightened ;  her  instinct  was  to  hide,  how- 

224 


MORAL    LESSONS 

ever  much  she  might  still  hanker  after  the  glories  of 
conspicuous  station.  Of  Airey's  disturbance  and  of 
Peggy's  fretting,  indeed,  she  had  only  a  vague  inkling; 
the  world  she  had  left  was  the  vivid  thing  to  her;  it 
seemed  to  ring  with  her  iniquities  as  her  guilty  ears 
listened  from  the  seclusion  of  Harriet  Street,  Covent 
Garden.  She  knew  it  called  her  impossible;  she  could 
not  have  resented  Lord  Glentorly's  "pirate  craft." 

Not  even  on  Mervyn  himself  had  she  been  so  great 
an  influence  as  on  Beaufort  Chance,  and,  great  as  the 
influence  was,  Beaufort  greatly,  though  not  unnat- 
urally, exaggerated  it.  He  set  down  to  her  account 
all  the  guilt  of  those  practices  for  which  he  had  suffered 
and  of  which  Fricker  was  in  reality  the  chief  inspirer; 
at  any  rate,  if  she  had  not  counselled  them,  she  had 
impelled  him  to  them  and  had  then  turned  round  and 
refused  him  the  reward  for  whose  sake  he  had  sinned. 
If  he  ranked  now  rather  with  Fricker  than  with  Mervyn 
or  Constantine  Blair,  or  the  men  of  that  sort  who  had 
been  his  colleagues  and  his  equals,  the  heaviest  of  the 
blame  rested  on  Trix.  If  the  meshes  of  the  Fricker 
net  enveloped  him  more  closely,  day  by  day,  hers  was 
the  fault.  Countenanced  by  an  element  of  truth,  car- 
ried the  whole  way  by  resentment,  by  jealous}7",  and 
by  the  impulse  to  acquit  himself  at  another's  expense, 
he  would  have  rejoiced  to  make  Trix  his  scapegoat 
and  to  lay  on  her  the  burden  of  his  sins.  Though  she 
could  not  bear  his  punishment,  he  welcomed  her  as 
his  partner  in  misfortune.  He  longed  to  see  her  in 
her  humiliation,  and  sought  a  way.  When  he  asked 
himself  what  he  meant  to  say  to  her  he  could  not  an- 
swer; his  impulse  was  to  see  her  in  the  dust. 

The  Frickers  often  talked  of  Trix — Fricker  with  the 
quiet  smile  of  a  man  who  has  done  what  he  had  to  do 
and  done  it  well;  Mrs.  Fricker  with  heavy,  self-com- 
'5  225 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

placent  malevolence;  Connie  with  a  lighter  yet  still 
malicious  raillery.  An  instinct  in  Chance  made  him 
take  small  part  in  these  discussions  and  display  some 
indifference  towards  them;  but  soon  he  gleaned  what 
he  wanted  from  them.  Fricker  had  found  out  where 
Trix  was ;  he  had  received  a  brief  note  from  her,  asking 
to  be  informed  of  the  full  extent  of  her  speculative 
liabilities.  He  described  with  amusement  the  lucid 
explanation  which  he  had  sent. 

"When  she's  paid  that,  and  her  other  debts — which 
must  be  pretty  heavy — there  won't  be  much  left,  I 
fancy,"  he  reflected. 

"Where  is  she?"  asked  Connie,  in  passing  curiosity. 

"I  forget.  Oh,  here's  the  letter.  Thirty-four  Har- 
riet Street,  Covent  Garden.  Hardly  sounds  princely, 
does  it,  Connie?" 

They  all  laughed,  and  Beaufort  Chance  with  them. 
But  he  hoarded  up  the  address  in  his  memory.  The 
next  moment,  by  an  impulse  to  conceal  his  thoughts, 
he  stole  an  affectionate  glance  at  Connie  and  received 
her  sly  return  of  it.  He  knew  that,  whatever  feeling 
took  him  to  Trix  Trevalla's,  his  visit  would  not  win 
approval  from  Connie  Fricker. 

On  the  following  morning  Mr.  Fricker  saw  that  ad- 
dress at  the  top  of  another  note,  whose  author  intro- 
duced herself  as  a  great  friend  of  Mrs.  Trevalla.  Smil- 
ing with  increased  amusement,  he  gave  her  what  she 
asked — an  appointment  for  the  following  afternoon. 
It  would  be  Saturday,  and  Fricker  bade  her  come  to 
his  house,  not  to  his  office.  He  had  heard  Connie  speak 
of  her  with  some  envy,  and  saw  no  reason  why  the  two 
girls  should  not  become  acquainted.  The  object  of 
the  visit  was,  he  supposed,  to  make  an  appeal  on  Trix 
Trevalla's  behalf.  Experience  taught  him  that  women 
attached  an  extraordinary  efficacy  to  a  personal  inter- 

226 


MORAL    LESSONS 

view — extraordinary,  that  is,  where  the  other  party  to 
the  interview  was  not  a  fool.  His  anticipation  of  the 
meeting  did  not  differ  much  from  Lady  Blixworth's 
satirical  suggestion  of  its  course. 

When  Peggy  came  at  the  appointed  hour  (she  was 
so  far  human,  Mr.  Pricker's  suspicions  so  far  jus- 
tified, that  she  had  taken  much  pains  with  her  toilet) 
she  was  ushered  into  the  drawing-room,  not  the  study, 
and  was  met  by  Connie  with  profuse  apologies.  A 
gentleman  had  called  on  papa  most  unexpectedly; 
papa  had  to  see  the  gentleman,  because  the  gentleman 
was  leaving  for  Constantinople  the  next  day.  It  was 
something  about  the  Trans-Euphratic  Railway,  or 
something  tiresome.  Would  Miss  Ryle  mind  waiting 
half  an  hour  and  having  a  cup  of  tea?  Mamma  would 
be  so  sorry  to  miss  her,  but  it  was  Lady  Rattledowney's 
day,  and  Lady  Rattledowney  was  lost  without  main- 
ma.  Did  Miss  Ryle  know  the  Rattledowneys?  Such 
dear  people  the  Rattledowneys  were !  ThejT  were  also, 
it  may  be  observed,  extremely  impecunious. 

Thus  vivaciously  inaugurated,  the  conversation  pros- 
pered. Peggy,  sorely  afraid  of  giggling,  studied  her 
companion  with  an  amusement  sternly  repressed,  and 
an  interest  the  greater  for  being  coupled  with  unhesi- 
tating condemnation.  Connie  ranged  over  the  up- 
per half  of  the  Pricker  acquaintance;  she  had  been 
warned  to  avoid  mention  of  Trix  Trevalla,  but  she 
made  haste  to  discover  any  other  common  friends : 
there  was  the  Eli-Simpkinsons  and  the  Moresby-Jen- 
kinses, of  course ;  a  few  more  also  whom  Peggy  knew. 
Mrs.  Bonfill  figured  on  Connie's  list,  though  not,  she 
admitted,  of  their  intimate  circle.  ("  She  has  so  much 
to  do,  poor  Mrs.  Bonfill,  one  can  never  find  her!"  re- 
gretted Connie.)  Over  Lady  Blixworth,  whose  name 
introduced,  she  rather  shied. 
227 


THE    INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

"Mamma  doesn't  think  her  very  good  form,"  she 
said,  primly. 

Rushing  for  any  remark  to  avert  the  threatened 
laugh,  Peggy  made  boldly  for  Beaufort  Chance. 

"  Oh  yes,  he's  a  very  particular  friend  of  ours.  We 
think  him  delightful.  So  clever,  too !  He's  always  in 
and  out  of  the  house,  Miss  Ryle."  She  blushed  a  little, 
and  met  Peggy's  look  with  a  conscious  smile. 

Peggy  smiled  too,  and  followed  the  next  direction 
taken  by  Miss  Connie's  handsome  eyes. 

"I  see  you've  got  his  photograph  on  the  table." 

"  Yes.  Mamma  lets  me  have  that  for  my  particular 
table." 

Evidently  Peggy  was  to  understand  that  her  com- 
panion had  a  property  in  Beaufort  Chance;  whether 
the  intimation  was  for  Peggy's  own  benefit  or  for  trans- 
mission to  another  was  not  clear.  It  was  possibly  no 
more  than  an  ebullition  of  vanity — but  Peggy  did  not 
believe  that. 

"We  ride  together  in  the  morning  sometimes,  and 
that  always  makes  people  such  friends.  No  stiffness, 
you  know." 

Peggy,  wondering  when  and  where  any  stiffness 
would  intrude  into  Connie's  friendship,  agreed  that 
riding  was  an  admirable  path  to  intimacy. 

"  And  then  he's  so  much  connected  in  business  with 
papa;  that  naturally  brings  him  here  a  lot." 

"I  don't  suppose  he  minds,"  suggested  Peggy,  pla}T- 
ing  the  game. 

"He  says  he  doesn't,"  laughed  Connie,  poking  out 
her  foot  and  regarding  it  with  coy  intensity,  as  she  had 
seen  ladies  do  on  the  stage  when  the  topic  of  their  af- 
fections happened  to  be  touched  upon. 

Understanding  the  accepted  significance,  if  not  the 
inherent  propriety,  of  the  attitude,  Peggy  ventured  on 

228 


MORAL    LESSONS 

a  nod  which   intimated  her  appreciation  of  the  po- 
sition. 

"Oh!  it's  all  nonsense  anyhow,  isn't  it,  Miss  Ryle? 
What  I  say  is,  it's  just  a  bit  of  fun."  In  this  declara- 
tion Connie  did  less  than  justice  to  herself.  It  was 
that,  but  it  was  something  much  more. 

Peggy  was  vastly  amused,  and  saw  no  reason  to 
be  more  delicate  or  reticent  than  the  lady  principally 
concerned. 

"May  we  congratulate  you  yet?" 

"Gracious,  no,  Miss  Ryle!     How  you  do  get  on!" 

At  this  Peggy  saw  fair  excuse  for  laughter,  and 
made  up  her  arrears  heartily.  Connie  was  not  at  all 
displeased.  Peggy  "  got  on  "  further,  chaffing  Connie 
on  her  conquest  and  professing  all  proper  admiration 
for  the  victim. 

"Mind  you  don't  say  anything  to  mamma,"  Con- 
nie cautioned  her.  "It's  all  a  dead  secret." 

"I'm  very  good  at  secrets,"  Peggy  assured  her. 

"He  gave  me  this,"  murmured  Connie,  displaying 
a  bangle. 

"How  perfectly  sweet!"  cried  Peggy. 

"It  is  rather  nice,  isn't  it?  I  love  diamonds  and 
pearls.  Don't  you,  Miss  Ryle?  Lady  Rattledowney 
admired  it  very  much." 

"Did  you  tell  her  where  it  came  from?" 

"No;  and  mamma  thinks  I  bought  it!" 

Peggy  had  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  this  guile- 
lessness  was  overdone;  she  adopted,  without  serious 
doubt,  the  theory  of  transmission.  Nothing  was  to  be 
repeated  to  mamma,  but  as  much  as  she  chose  might 
find  its  way  to  Trix  Trevalla.  The  information  was 
meant  to  add  a  drop  of  bitterness  to  that  sinner's  cup. 
Peggy  was  willing  to  take  it  on  this  understanding — 
and  to  deal  with  it  as  might  chance  to  be  convenient. 

229 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"I  hope  you  haven't  found  me  very  dull,  Miss  Ryle?" 

"No!"  cried  Peggy,  with  obvious  sincerity.  Connie 
had  been  several  things  which  Peggy  subsequently  de- 
tailed, but  she  had  not  been  tiresome. 

The  interview  with  Mr.  Fricker  was  in  a  different 
key,  the  only  likeness  being  that  the  transmission 
theory  still  seemed  applicable,  and  indeed  inevitable, 
here  and  there.  The  giggles  and  the  coyness  were 
gone,  and  with  them  the  calculated  guilelessness;  the 
vulgarity  was  almost  gone.  Fricker  was  not  a  gentle- 
man, but,  thanks  to  his  quietness  and  freedom  from 
affectation,  it  was  often  possible  to  forget  the  fact.  He 
had  a  dry  humor,  she  soon  found,  and  it  was  stirred 
by  the  contrast  between  his  visitor's  utter  ignorance 
of  business  and  her  resolutely  business-like  manner. 
It  was  evident  that  she  did  not  intend  to  clasp  his 
knees. 

"I  see  you've  taken  my  measure,  Miss  Ryle,"  he 
remarked.  "Mrs.  Trevalla  has  shown  you  my  letter, 
you  tell  me,  and  you  have  come  to  make  me  a  propo- 
sition?" 

"  It  seems  from  the  letter  that  they  can  go  on  making 
her  pay  money?" 

"  Precisely  —  at  stated  intervals  and  of  definite 
amounts.  Three  several  amounts  of  one  thousand 
pounds  at  intervals  of  not  less  than  two  months — the 
first  being  due  immediately,  and  the  others  sure  to 
come  later." 

"Yes,  I  think  I  understand  that." 

"I  endeavored  to  express  myself  clearly,  Miss  Ryle." 

Peggy  ignored  a  profane  gleam  of  amusement  in 
his  eye. 

"  I  suppose  it's  no  good  talking  about  how  she  came 
to  buy  such  curious  shares,"  began  Peggy. 

"I  think  you'll  have  gathered  from  Mrs.  Trevalla 
230 


MORAL    LESSONS 

that  such  a  discussion  would  not  be  fruitful,"  inter- 
posed Flicker. 

"Have  you  got  to  pay,  too?" 

"  That  question  is,  pardon  me,  worse  than  fruitless  ; 
it's  irrelevant." 

"She  can't  pay  that  money  and  what  she  owes  be- 
sides unless  she  has  time  given  her.  And,  even  if  she 
has,  she'll  worry  herself  to  death,  waiting  and  watch- 
ing for  the — for  the — " 

"Calls,"  he  suggested.     "That's  the  legal  term." 

"Oh  yes.     The  calls." 

"I  am  not  the  company;  I  am  not  her  creditors.  I 
can't  give  Mrs.  Trevalla  time." 

"You  wouldn't  if  you  could!"  Peggy  blazed  out. 

"Irrelevant  again,"  he  murmured,  gently  shaking 
his  head. 

"  I  didn't  come  here  to  beg,"  Peggy  explained.  "  But 
I've  a  sort  of  idea  that  if  you  had  the  shares  instead 
of  Trix  you  could  get  out  of  it  cheaper  somehow.  I 
mean  you  could  make  some  arrangement  with  the 
company,  or  get  rid  of  the  shares  or  something.  Any- 
how I  believe  you  could  manage  to  pay  less  than  she'll 
have  to." 

"It's  possible  you're  flattering  me  there." 

"You'd  try?" 

"  You  may,  I  think,  give  me  the  credit  of  supposing 
I  should  try,"  said  Fricker,  smiling  again. 

"  She'll  have  to  pay,  or — or  try  to  pay — " 

"She'll  be  liable  to  pay—" 

"Yes,  liable  to  pay  three  thousand  pounds  alto- 
gether?" He  nodded.  "What  are  the  shares  worth?" 

"Three  thousand  pounds  less  than  nothing,  Miss 
Ryle." 

His  terrible  coolness  appalled  Peggy.  She  could  not 
resist  a  glance  of  horror,  but  she  held  herself  in  hand. 

231 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"  Then,  if  you  took  them,  the  most  you'd  lose  would 
be  three  thousand  pounds,  and  you'd  have  a  very  good 
chance  of  losing  less?" 

"  I  don't  know  about  a  good  chance.  Some  chance, 
shall  we  say?"  He  was  more  than  tolerant;  he  was 
interested  in  Peggy's  development  of  her  idea. 

Peggy  leaned  her  elbows  on  the  writing-table  between 
them. 

"  I  want  her  to  be  rid  of  the  whole  thing — to  think  it 
never  happened.  I  want  you  to  take  those  shares 
from  her :  tell  her  that  they've  become  of  value,  or  that 
you  made  a  mistake,  or  anything  you  like  of  that  sort, 
and  that  you'll  relieve  her  of  them.  If  you  did  that, 
how  much  money  should  you  want?" 

"You  wish  to  do  this  out  of  kindness?  To  take  a 
weight  off  Mrs.  Trevalla's  mind?" 

"Yes,  to  take  a  weight  off  her  mind.  It's  funny, 
but  she  frets  more  over  having  bungled  her  money 
affairs  and  having  been  made — having  been  silly,  you 
know — than  over  anything  else.  She's  very  proud, 
you  see." 

Pricker's  smile  broadened.  "I  can  quite  believe 
she's  proud,"  he  remarked. 

"  Of  course  she  knows  nothing  about  my  being  here. 
It's  my  own  idea.  You  see  what  I  want,  don't  you?" 

"As  a  business  transaction,  I  confess  I  don't  quite 
see  it.  If  you  appeal  to  my  good-nature,  and  ask  me 
to  make  sacrifices  for  Mrs.  Trevalla — " 

"No.     I  don't  expect  you  to  lose  by  it." 

Fricker  saw  the  look  that  she  could  not  keep  out  of 
her  eyes.  He  smiled  fixedly  at  her. 

"But  I  thought  that  if  you  could  satisfy  them — 
or  get  off  somehow  for — well,  one  thousand  pounds 
or — or  at  most  one  thousand  five  hundred  pounds" 
(Peggy  was  very  agitated  over  her  amounts) — "that — 

232 


MORAL    LESSONS 

that  I  and  some  other  friends  could  manage  that,  and 
then — why,  we'd  tell  her  it  was  all  right!"  A  hint  of 
triumph  broke  through  her  nervousness  as  she  declared 
her  scheme.  "  I  can't  be  absolutely  sure  of  the  money 
except  my  own,  but  I  believe  I  could  get  it."  She 
worked  up  to  a  climax.  "  I  can  give  you  rive  hundred 
pounds  now — in  notes,  if  you  like,"  she  said,  produc- 
ing a  little  leather  bag  of  a  purse. 

Fricker  gave  a  short,  dry  laugh;  the  whole  episode 
amused  him  very  much,  and  Peggy's  appearance  also 
gratified  his  taste.  She  unfastened  the  bag,  and  he 
heard  her  fingers  crackle  the  notes  as  she  sat  with  her 
eyes  fixed  on  his;  appeal  had  been  banished  from 
Peggy's  words,  it  spoke  in  her  eyes  in  spite  of  herself. 

"Mrs.  Trevalla  has  perhaps  told  you  something  of 
her  relations  with  me?"  asked  Fricker,  clasping  his 
long,  spare  hands  on  the  table. 

"  I  don't  defend  her ;  but  you  don't  fight  with  women, 
Mr.  Fricker?" 

"There  are  no  women  in  business  matters,  Miss 

Ryle." 

"Or  with  people  who  are  down?" 
"Not  fight,  no.     I  keep  my  foot  on  them." 
He  took  up   a  half-smoked  cigar  and  relit  it. 
"Fm  not  a  Shylock,"  he  resumed,  with  a  smile. 
"Shylock  was  a  sentimentalist.     Fd  have  taken  that 
last  offer — a  high  one,  if  I  remember — and  given  up 
my  pound  of  flesh.     But  you  expect  me  to  do  it  for  much 
less  than  market  value.     I  like  my  pound  of  flesh,  and 
I  want  something  above  market  value  for  it,  Miss  Ryle. 
Fve  taught  Mrs.  Trevalla  her  little  lesson.     Perhaps 
there's  no  need  to  rub  it  in  any  more.     You  want  me 
to  make  her  think  that  she  can  get  out  of  Glowing 
Stars  without  further  loss?" 
"Yes." 

233 


THE   INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

"  And  you  want  me  to  take  the  risk  on  myself  ?  The 
loss  may  run  to  three  thousand  pounds,  though,  as 
you  saj7,  a  lucky  chance  might  enable  me  to  reduce  it." 
His  fertile  mind  had  inklings  of  a  scheme  already, 
though  in  the  vaguest  outline. 

"Yes,"  said  Peggy  again,  not  trusting  herself  to 
say  more. 

"Very  well;  now  we  understand."  He  leaned  right 
over  towards  her.  "I  think  you're  foolish,"  he  told 
her,  "  you  and  the  other  friends.  The  woman  deserves 
all  she's  got;  she  didn't  play  fair  with  me.  I  haven't 
a  spark  of  sympathy  for  her.  If  I  followed  my  feelings, 
I  should  show  you  the  door.  But  I  don't  follow  my 
feelings  when  I  see  a  fair  profit  in  the  other  direction. 
If  Mrs.  Trevalla  had  acted  on  that  rule  she  wouldn't 
be  where  she  is."  He  thrust  his  chair  back  suddenly 
and  rose  to  his  feet.  "I'll  do  what  you  wish,  and  back 
up  the  story  you  mean  to  tell  her,  if  you'll  come  again 
and  bring  that  pretty  little  bag  with  you,  and  take  out 
of  it  and  lay  on  this  table — "  He  paused  in  wilful 
malice,  tonnenting  Peggy  and  watching  her  parted  lips 
and  eager  eyes.  "And  lay  on  the  table,"  he  ended, 
slowly,  "four  thousand  pounds." 

"Four — !"  gasped  Peggy,  and  could  get  no  further. 

"  Three  to  cover  risk,  one  as  a  solatium  for  the  wound 
Mrs.  Trevalla  has  dealt  to  my  pride."  His  irony  be- 
came unwontedly  savage  as  he  snarled  out  his  gibe. 

Peggy's  face  suddenly  grew  flushed  and  her  eyes 
dim.  She  looked  at  him,  and  knew  there  was  no  mercy. 
He  did  not  spare  her  his  gaze,  but  wrhen  she  conquered 
her  dismay  and  sat  fronting  him  with  firm  lips  again 
he  smiled  a  grim  approval.  He  liked  pluck,  and  when 
he  had  hit  his  hardest  he  liked  best  to  see  the  blow  taken 
well.  He  became  his  old,  self  -  controlled,  calm  self 
again. 

234 


MORAL    LESSONS 

Peggy  shut  her  bag  with  a  click  and  rose  in  her  turn. 
Her  first  words  surprised  Mr.  Fricker. 

"That's  a  bargain,  is  it?"  she  asked. 

"A  bargain,  certainly,"  he  said. 

"Then  will  you  put  it  in  writing,  please?"  She 
pointed  at  the  table  with  a  peremptory  air. 

Infinitely  amused  again,  Fricker  sat  down  and  em- 
bodied his  undertaking  in  a  letter,  ceremoniously  ad- 
dressed to  Miss  Ryle,  expressed  and  signed  in  the 
name  of  his  firm;  he  blotted  the  letter  and  gave  it  to 
her  in  an  open  envelope. 

"It's  as  well  not  to  trust  to  memory,  however  great 
confidence  we  may  have  in  one  another,  isn't  it?" 
said  he. 

"Much,"  agreed  Peggy,  dryly.  "I  don't  suppose  I 
can  get  all  that  money,  but  I'm  going  to  try,"  she  an- 
nounced. 

"  I  dare  say  there  are  people  who  would  do  a  great 
deal  for  you,"  he  suggested,  in  sly  banter. 

Peggy  flushed  again.  "  I  shouldn't  ask  any  one  like 
that.  I  couldn't."  She  broke  off,  indignant  with  her- 
self ;  she  had  taken  almost  a  confidential  tone.  "  It's 
not  your  concern  where  or  how  I  get  it." 

"You  express  the  view  I've  always  taken  most  ex- 
actly, Miss  Ryle." 

He  was  openly  deriding  her,  but  she  hardly  hated 
him  now.  He  was  too  strange  to  hate,  she  was  coming 
to  think.  She  smiled  at  him  as  she  asked  a  question : 

"Does  money  always  make  people  like  what  you 
are?" 

"Money?"  Fricker  stood  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  seeming  a  little  puzzled. 

"I  mean,  always  bothering  with  it  and  thinking  a 
lot  of  it,  you  know." 

"Oh  no!     If  it  did,  all  men  of  business  would  be 
235 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

good  men  of  business,  and,  luckily,  there  are  plenty  of 
bad." 

"I  see,"  said  Peggy.  "Well,  I'll  come  back  if  I  get 
the  money,  Mr.  Flicker." 

"I'm  glad  Connie  gave  you  some  tea." 

"We  had  a  very  nice  talk,  thank  you." 

"  I  won't  ask  you  to  remember  me  to  Mrs.  Trevalla." 

"  She's  not  to  know  I've  seen  you.  You've  put  that 
in  the  letter?" 

"Bless  my  soul,  I'd  forgotten!  How  valuable  that 
written  record  is!  Yes,  you'll  find  it  there  all  right. 
The  transaction  is  to  be  absolutely  confidential,  so  far 
as  Mrs.  Trevalla  is  concerned." 

He  escorted  her  to  the  door.  As  they  passed  through 
the  hall  Connie's  voice  came  from  up-stairs : 

"Won't  Miss  Ryle  take  a  glass  of  wine  before  she 
goes,  papa?" 

Fricker  looked  at  Peggy  with  a  smile. 

"I  don't  drink  wine,"  said  Peggy,  rather  severely. 

"Of  course  not — between  meals.  Connie's  so  hos- 
pitable, though.  Well,  I  hope  to  see  you  again." 

"I  really  don't  believe  you  do,"  said  Peggy.  "You 
love  money,  but — " 

"I  love  a  moral  lesson  more?  Possibly,  Miss  Ryle; 
but  I  at  least  keep  my  bargains.  You  can  rely  on  my 
word  if — if  you  come  again,  you  know." 

Peggy's  hansom  was  at  the  door,  and  he  helped  her 
in.  She  got  into  the  corner  of  it,  nodded  to  him,  and 
then  sank  her  face  far  into  the  fluffy  recesses  of  a  big 
white  feather  boa.  All  below  her  nose  was  hidden; 
her  eyes  gleamed  out  fixed  and  sad ;  her  hands  clutched 
her  little  bag  very  tightly.  She  had  so  hoped  to  bring 
it  back  empty;  she  had  so  hoped  to  have  a  possible 
though  difficult  task  set  her.  Now  she  could  hear 
and  think  of  nothing  but  those  terrible  figures  set 

236 


MORAL    LESSONS 

out  in  Pricker's  relentless  tones  —  "Four  thousand 
pounds!" 

Fricker  turned  back  into  his  house,  smiling  in  ridi- 
cule touched  with  admiration.  It  was  all  very  absurd, 
but  she  was  a  girl  of  grit.  "  Straight,  too,"  he  decided, 
approvingly. 

Connie  ran  down-stairs  to  meet  him. 

"Oh,  what  did  she  want?  I've  been  sitting  in  the 
drawing-room  just  devoured  by  curiosity!  Do  tell  me 
about  it,  papa!" 

"Not  a  word.  It's  business,"  he  said,  curtly,  but 
not  unkindly.  "  Inquisitiveness  is  an  old  failing  of 
yours.  Ah!" 

His  exclamation  was  called  forth  by  an  apparently 
slight  cause.  Connie  wore  a  white  frock ;  to  the  knees 
of  it  adhered  a  long  strip  of  fawn-colored  wool. 

"  You  were  sitting  in  the  drawing-room  devoured  by 
curiosity?"  he  asked,  reflectively. 

"Just  devoured,  papa/'  repeated  Connie,  gayly. 

Mr.  Fricker  took  hold  of  her  ear  lightly  and  began 
to  walk  her  towards  his  study. 

"  Odd,"  he  said,  gently,  "  because  the  drawing-room's 
upholstered  in  red,  isn't  it?" 

"Well,  of  course."     Connie  laughed  rather  uneasily. 

"  And,  so  far  as  I  know,  the  only  fawn-colored  wool 
mat  in  the  house  is  just  outside  my  study  door." 

"What  do  you  mean,  papa?"  Connie  was  startled, 
and  tried  to  jump  away;  Mr.  Fricker's  firm  hold  on  her 
ear  made  it  plain  that  she  would  succeed  only  at  an 
impossible  sacrifice. 

"And  that's  the  precise  color  of  that  piece  of  wool 
clinging  to  your  frock.  Look!"  They  were  on  the 
mat  now;  the  study  door  was  open,  and  there  was 
ample  light  for  Connie  to  make  the  suggested  com- 
parison. "Look!"  urged  Fricker,  .smiling  and  pinch- 

237 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

ing  his  daughter's  ear  with  increasing  force.     "Look, 
Connie,  look!" 

"Papa!     Oh,  you're  hurting  me!" 

"Dear  me,  I'm  sorry,"  said  Fricker.  "But  the 
thought  of  people  listening  outside  my  door  made  me 
forget  what  I  was  doing."  It  seemed  to  have  the  same 
effect  again,  for  Connie  writhed.  "How  difficult  it  is 
to  get  straightforward  dealing!"  reflected  Fricker,  sad- 
ly. "My  dear  Connie,  if  you  happen  to  have  caught 
any  of  the  conversation,  you  will  know  that  Mrs.  Tre- 
valla  has  learned  the  advantage  of  straightforward 
dealing." 

Connie  had  nothing  to  say ;  she  began  to  cry  rather 
noisily.  Fricker  involuntarily  thought  of  a  girl  he  had 
seen  that  day  who  would  neither  have  listened  nor  cried. 

"Run  away,"  he  said,  releasing  her;  his  tone  was 
kind,  but  a  trifle  contemptuous.  "You'd  better  keep 
my  secrets  if  I'm  to  keep  yours,  you  know." 

Connie  went  off,  heaving  sobs  and  rubbing  her  as- 
saulted ear.  She  was  glad  to  escape  so  cheaplj7,  and 
the  sobs  stopped  when  she  got  round  the  first  corner. 

"Connie's  a  good  girl,"  said  Fricker,  addressing  the 
study  walls  in  a  thoughtful  soliloquy.  "  Yes,  she's  a 
good  girl.  But  there's  a  difference.  Yes,  there  is  a 
difference."  He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  lit  a  fresh 
cigar,  and  sat  down  at  his  writing-table.  "It  doesn't 
matter  whether  Connie  knows  or  not,"  he  reflected, 
"  but  we  must  have  moral  lessons,  you  know.  That's 
what  pretty  Miss  Ryle  had  to  understand — and  Mrs. 
Trevalla,  and  now  Connie.  It  '11  do  all  of  'em  good." 

Then  he  looked  up  the  ix>sition  of  the  Glowing  Star, 
and  thought  that  an  amalgamation  might  possibly  be 
worked  and  things  put  in  a  little  better  trim.  But  it 
would  be  troublesome,  and — he  preferred  the  moral 
lesson,  after  all. 

238 


XVII 

THE  PERJURER 

PEGGY'S  appointment  had  not  been  a  secret  in 
the  Fricker  household,  though  its  precise  object 
was  not  known ;  it  had  been  laughed  and  joked  over  in 
the  presence  of  the  family  friend,  Beaufort  Chance. 
He  had  joined  in  the  mirth,  and  made  a  mental  note  of 
the  time  appointed — just  as  he  had  of  Trix  Trevalla's 
address  in  Harriet  Street.  Hence  it  was  that  he  caused 
himself  to  be  driven  to  the  address  a  little  while  after 
Peggy  had  started  on  her  way  to  Pricker's.  The 
woman  who  answered  his  ring  said  that  Mrs.  Trevalla 
was  seeing  nobody ;  her  scruples  were  banished  by  his 
confident  assurance  that  he  was  an  old  friend,  and  by 
five  shillings  which  he  slipped  into  her  hand.  He  did 
not  scrutinize  his  impulse  to  see  Trix;  it  was  rather 
blind,  but  it  was  overpowering.  An  idea  had  taken 
hold  of  him  which  he  hid  carefully  in  his  heart,  hid 
from  the  Prickers  above  all — and  tried,  perhaps,  to 
hide  from  himself  too ;  for  it  was  dangerous. 

Trix's  nerves  had  not  recovered  completely;  they 
were  not  tuned  to  meet  sudden  encounters.  She  gave 
a  startled  cry  as  the  door  was  opened  hastily  and  as 
hastily  closed,  and  he  was  left  alone  with  her.  She 
was  pale  and  looked  weary  about  the  eyes,  but  she 
looked  beautiful  too,  softened  by  her  troubles  and  en- 
dowed with  the  attraction  of  a  new  timidity ;  he  marked 
it  in  her  as  useful  to  his  purposes. 

239 


THE  INTRUSIONS  OF   PEGGY 

"You?  What  have  you  come  for?"  she  cried,  not 
rising  nor  offering  him  her  hand. 

He  set  down  his  hat  and  pulled  off  his  gloves  de- 
liberately. He  knew  they  were  alone  in  the  lodgings  ; 
she  was  at  his  mercy.  That  was  the  first  thing  he  had 
aimed  at,  and  it  was  his. 

"Your  friends  naturally  want  to  see  how  you  are 
getting  on,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh.  "They've  been 
hearing  so  much  about  you." 

Trix  tried  to  compose  herself  to  a  quiet  contempt, 
but  the  nerves  were  wrong  and  she  was  frightened. 

"Well,  things  have  turned  out  funnily,  haven't 
they?  Not  quite  what  they  looked  like  being  when 
we  met  last,  at  Viola  Blixworth's!  You  were  hardly 
the  stuff  to  fight  Fricker,  were  you?  Or  me  either — 
though  you  thought  you  could  manage  me  comfort- 
ably." 

His  words  were  brutal  enough;  his  look  surpassed 
them.  Trix  shrank  back  in  her  chair. 

"I  don't  want  to  talk  to  you  at  all,"  she  protested, 
helplessly. 

"Ah,  it's  always  had  to  be  just  what  you  wanted, 
hasn't  it?  Never  mind  anybody  else!  But  haven't 
you  learned  that  that  doesn't  exactly  work?  I  should 
have  thought  it  would  have  dawned  on  you.  Well,  I 
don't  want  to  be  unpleasant.  What's  going  to  happen 
now  ?  No  Mervyn !  No  marquisate  in  the  future !  No 
money  in  the  present,  I'm  afraid!  You've  made  a 
bungle  of  it,  Trix." 

"I've  nothing  at  all  to  say  to  you.  If  I've — if  I've 
made  mistakes,  I — " 

"You've  suffered  for  them?  Yes,  I  fancy  so.  And 
you  made  some  pretty  big  ones.  It  was  rather  a  mis- 
take to  send  me  to  the  right-about,  wasn't  it?  You 
were  warned.  You  chose  to  go  on.  Here  you  are. 

240 


THE    PERJURER 

Don't  you  sometimes  think  you'd  better  have  stuck  to 
me?" 

"No!"  Trix  threw  the  one  word  at  him  with  a  dis- 
gusted contempt  which  roused  his  anger  even  while 
he  admired  the  effort  of  her  courage. 

"What,  you're  not  tamed  yet?"  he  sneered.  "Even 
this  palace,  and  Glowing  Stars,  and  being  the  laugh- 
ing-stock of  London  haven't  tamed  you?" 

He  spoke  slowly,  never  taking  his  eyes  from  her; 
her  defiance  worked  on  the  idea  in  his  heart.  He  had 
run  a  fatal  risk  once  before  under  her  influence,  he  felt 
her  influence  again  while  he  derided  her.  Enough  of 
what  he  had  been  clung  about  him  to  make  him  feel 
how  different  she  was  from  Connie  Fricker.  To  con- 
quer her  and  make  her  acknowledge  the  conquest  was 
the  desire  that  came  upon  him,  tempting  him  to  forget 
at  what  peril  he  would  break  with  Connie. 

"You  only  came  here  to  laugh  at  me,"  said  Trix. 
"Well,  goon." 

"One  can't  help  laughing  a  bit,"  he  remarked; 
"but  I  don't  want  to  be  hard  on  you.  If  you'd  done 
to  some  men  what  you  did  to  me,  they  mightn't  take  it 
so  quietly.  But  I'm  ready  to  be  friends." 

"Whatever  I  did,  you've  taken  more  than  your  re- 
venge— far  more.  Yes,  if  you  wanted  to  see  me  help- 
less and  ruined,  here  I  am.  Isn't  it  enough?  Can't 
you  go  now?" 

"And  howr's  old  Mervyn?  At  any  rate,  I've  taken 
you  awray  from  him,  the  stuck-up  fool!" 

"I  won't  discuss  Lord  Mervyn." 

"  He'd  be  surprised  to  see  us  together  here,  wouldn't 
he?"  He  laughed,  enjoying  the  thought  of  Mervyn's 
discomfiture;  he  might  make  it  still  more  complete  if 
he  yielded  to  his  idea.  He  came  round  the  table  and 
leaned  against  it,  crossing  his  feet;  he  was  within  a 
16  241 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

yard  of  her  chair,  and  looked  down  at  her  in  insolent 
disdain  and  more  insolent  admiration.  Now  again 
he  marked  her  fear  and  played  on  it. 

"  Yes,  we  got  the  whip-hand  of  you,  and  I  think  you 
know  it  now.  And  that's  what  you  want;  that's  the 
way  to  treat  you.  I  should  have  known  how  to  deal 
with  you.  What  could  a  fool  like  Mervyn  do  with  a 
woman  like  you?  You're  full  of  devil." 

Poor  Trix,  feeling  at  that  moment  by  no  means  full 
of  "devil,"  glanced  at  him  with  a  new  terror.  She 
had  set  herself  to  endure  his  taunts,  but  the  flavor  that 
crept  into  them  now  was  too  much. 

"  I  don't  forget  we  were  friends.  You're  pretty  well 
stranded  now.  Well,  I'll  look  after  you,  if  you  like. 
But  no  more  tricks!  You  must  behave  yourself." 

"Do  you  suppose  I  should  ever  willingly  speak  to 
you  again?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  When  the  last  of  the  money's 
gone,  perhaps?  I  don't  fancy  your  friends  here  can 
help  you  much.  It  '11  be  worth  while  remembering 
me  then." 

"I'd  sooner  starve,"  said  Trix,  decisively. 

"Wait  a  bit,  wait  a  bit,"  he  jeered. 

"  I  ask  you  to  go,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  door.  A 
trivial  circumstance  interfered  with  any  attempt  at 
more  dramatic  action ;  the  wire  of  the  bell  was  broken, 
as  Trix  well  knew. 

"Yes,  but  you  can't  always  have  what  you  want, 
can  you?"  His  tone  changed  to  one  of  bantering  in- 
timacy. "Come,  Trix,  be  a  sensible  girl.  You're  beat, 
and  you  know  it.  You'd  better  drop  your  airs.  By 
Jove,  I  wouldn't  offer  so  much  to  any  other  woman!" 

"What  do  you  want?"  she  asked,  curtly  and  des- 
perately. "I've  got  nothing  to  give  you  —  no  more 
money,  no  more  power,  no  more  influence.  I've  got 

242 


THE    PERJURER 

nothing."  Her  voice  shook  for  a  moment  as  she 
sketched  her  worldly  position. 

A  pause  followed.  Beaufort  Chance  longed  to  make 
the  plunge,  and  yet  he  feared  it.  If  he  told  her  that 
she  still  had  what  he  wanted,  he  believed  that  he  could 
bend  her  to  his  will ;  to  try  at  least  was  the  strong  im- 
pulse in  him.  But  how  much  would  it  mean?  He 
was  fast  in  the  Fricker  net.  Yet  the  very  passions 
which  had  led  him  into  that  entanglement  urged  him 
now  to  break  loose,  to  follow  his  desire,  and  to  risk 
everything  for  it.  The  tyrannous  instinct  that  Con- 
nie had  so  cleverly  played  upon  would  find  a  far  finer 
satisfaction  if  the  woman  he  had  once  wooed  when  she 
was  exalted,  when  she  gave  a  favor  by  listening  and 
could  bestow  distinction  by  her  consent,  should  bend 
before  him  and  come  to  him  in  humble  submission, 
owning  him  her  refuge,  owing  him  everything,  in 
abject  obedience.  That  was  the  picture  which  wrought 
upon  his  mind  and  appealed  to  his  nature.  He  saw 
nothing  unlikely  in  its  realization,  if  once  he  resolved 
to  aim  at  that.  What  other  refuge  had  she?  And  had 
she  not  liked  him  once?  She  would  have  liked  him 
more,  he  told  himself,  and  been  true  to  him,  if  he  had 
taken  a  proper  tone  towards  her  and  assumed  a  proper 
mastery — as  he  had  with  Connie  Fricker;  in  a  pass- 
ing thought  he  thanked  Connie  for  teaching  him  the 
lesson,  and  took  comfort  from  the  thought.  Connie 
would  not  be  really  troublesome;  he  could  manage 
her,  too. 

"No,  you've  got  nothing,"  he  said,  at  last;  "but 
supposing  I  say  I  don't  mind  that?" 

Trix  looked  at  him  again,  and  suddenly  began  to 
laugh  hysterically.  The  idea  he  hinted  was  horrible, 
but  to  her  it  was  inexpressibly  ludicrous  too.  She 
saw  what  he  wanted,  what  he  had  the  madness  to  sug- 

243 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

gest.  She  was  terrified,  but  she  laughed;  she  knew 
that  her  mirth  would  rouse  his  fury,  but  it  was  not  to 
be  resisted.  She  thought  that  she  would  go  on  laugh- 
ing even  if  he  struck  her  in  the  face — an  event  which, 
for  the  second  time  in  their  acquaintance,  did  not  seem 
to  her  unlikely. 

"  Are  you — can  you  actually — ?"  she  gasped. 

"Don't  be  a  fool  I  There's  nothing  to  laugh  at. 
Hold  your  tongue  and  think  it  over.  Remember,  I 
don't  bind  myself.  I'll  see  how  3^ou  behave.  I'm 
not  going  to  be  fooled  by  you  twice.  You  ought  to 
know  it  doesn't  pay  you  to  do  it,  too,  by  now."  He 
became  more  jocular.  "You'd  have  better  fun  with 
me  than  with  Mervyn,  and  I  dare  say  you'll  manage  to 
wheedle  me  into  giving  you  a  good  deal  of  your  own 
way  after  all." 

He  was  still  more  outrageous  than  Trix  had  thought 
him  before.  She  was  prepared  for  much,  but  hardly 
for  this.  He  had  degenerated  even  from  what  he  had 
shown  himself  in  their  earlier  intercourse.  Outwardly, 
among  men,  in  public  life,  she  supposed  that  he  was 
still  presentable,  was  still  reckoned  a  gentleman.  Al- 
lowing for  the  fact  that  many  men  were  gentlemen  in 
dealing  with  other  men,  or  appeared  so,  who  failed  to 
preserve  even  the  appearance  with  women,  she  re- 
mained amazed  at  the  coarse  vulgarity  of  his  words 
and  tone.  It  is  possible  that  his  attentions  to  Connie 
Fricker  had  resulted  in  a  deterioration  of  his  style  of 
treating  such  matters ;  or  the  change  may  merely  have 
been  part  of  the  general  lowering  the  man  had  under- 
gone. 

"Well,  I'll  be  off  now,"  he  said,  lifting  himself  from 
the  table  leisurely.  "You  think  about  it.  I'll  come 
and  see  you  again."  He  held  out  his  hand.  "  You're 
looking  deuced  pretty  to-day,"  he  told  her.  "Pale 

244 


THE    PERJURER 

and  interesting,  and  all  that,  you  know.  I  say,  if  we 
do  it,  old  Mervyn  '11  look  pretty  blue,  eh?  The  laugh 
'11  be  against  him  then,  won't  it?" 

Trix  had  not  given  him  her  hand.  She  was  afraid 
of  the  parting.  Her  fears  were  not  groundless.  He 
laughed  as  he  stepped  up  to  her  chair.  She  drew  back 
in  horror,  guessing  his  purpose.  It  would  seem  to 
him  quite  natural  to  kiss  her — she  divined  that.  She 
had  no  leisure  to  judge  or  to  condemn  his  standard; 
she  knew  only  that  she  loathed  the  idea  passionately. 
She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"Guessed  it,  did  you?"  he  laughed,  rather  pleased, 
and,  bending  over,  he  took  hold  of  her  wrists  and  tore 
her  hands  from  in  front  of  her  face. 

At  this  moment,  however  —  and  the  thing  could 
hardly  have  been  worse  timed  from  one  point  of  view, 
or  better  from  another — Peggy  Ryle  opened  the  door. 
Peggy  trod  light,  the  baize  door  swung  quietly,  Beau- 
fort's attention  had  been  much  preoccupied.  His 
hands  were  still  on  Trix's  wrists  when  he  turned  at 
the  opening  of  the  door.  So  far  as  the  facts  of  the  sit- 
uation went,  explanation  was  superfluous;  the  mean- 
ing of  the  facts  was  another  thing. 

Peggy  had  come  in  looking  grave,  wistful,  distressed; 
the  shadow  of  the  Fricker  interview  was  still  over  her. 
When  she  saw  the  position  she  stood  on  the  threshold, 
saying  nothing,  smiling  doubtfully.  Trix  dropped  her 
hands  in  her  lap  with  a  sigh;  pure  and  great  relief 
was  her  feeling.  Beaufort  essayed  unconsciousness; 
it  was  an  elaborate  and  clumsy  effort. 

"Glad  to  have  a  glimpse  of  you  before  I  go,  Miss 
Ryle.  I  called  to  see  how  Mrs.  Trevalla  was,  but  I 
must  run  away  now." 

"So  sorry,"  said  Peggy.  "Let  me  show  you  the 
way." 

245 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

The  doubtful  smile  gave  way  to  a  broader  and  more 
mirthful  one.  Trix's  eyes  had  telegraphed  past  horror 
and  present  thanksgiving.  Moreover,  Beaufort  looked 
a  fool — and  Peggy  had  just  come  from  the  Prickers'. 
This  last  circumstance  she  seemed  to  think  would  in- 
terest Beaufort ;  or  did  she  merely  aim  at  carrying  off 
the  situation  by  a  tactful  flow  of  talk? 

"I've  just  been  to  call  on  your  friends,  the  Prickers/' 
she  said,  brightly.  "What  a  nice  girl  Miss  Pricker  is! 
She  says  she's  great  friends  with  you." 

"I  go  there  a  lot  on  business,"  he  explained,  stiffly. 

"On  business?"  Peggy  laughed.  "I  dare  say  you 
do,  Mr.  Chance!  She's  so  friendly  and  cordial,  isn't 
she?  It  must  be  nice  riding  with  her!  And  what  a 
beautiful  bracelet  you  gave  her!" 

Beaufort  shot  a  morose  glance  at  her,  and  from  her 
to  Trix.  Trix  was  smiling,  though  still  agitated. 
Peggy  was  laughing  in  an  open,  good-natured  fashion. 

"I  envied  it  awfully,"  she  confessed.  "Diamonds 
and  pearls,  Trix — just  beauties!" 

Mr.  Beaufort  Chance  said  good-b37e. 

"I  hope  to  see  you  again,"  he  added  to  Trix  from 
the  doorway. 

"Do  tell  Miss  Pricker  how  much  I  like  her,"  Peggy 
implored,  following  him  to  the  baize  door. 

He  went  down-stairs,  silently,  or  not  quite  silently, 
cursing  Peggy,  yet  not  on  the  whole  ill-pleased  with 
his  visit.  He  seemed  to  have  made  some  progress  in 
the  task  of  subduing  Trix  Trevalla.  She  had  been 
frightened — that  was  something.  He  walked  off  but- 
toning his  frock-coat,  looking  like  a  prosperous,  orderly, 
and  most  respectable  gentleman.  Fortunately,  emo- 
tions primitively  barbarous  are  not  indicated  by  ex- 
ternal labels,  or  walks  in  the  street  would  be  fraught 
with  strange  discoveries. 

246 


THE   PERJURER 

It  did  not  take  long  to  put  Peggy  abreast  of  events ; 
Trix's  eyes  could  have  done  it  almost  without  words. 

"Men  are  astonishing/'  opined  Peggy,  embracing 
Beaufort  Chance  and  Fricker  in  a  liberal  generaliza- 
tion. 

"They  say  we're  astonishing,"  Trix  reminded  her. 

"Oh,  that's  just  because  they're  stupid."  She  grew 
grave.  "Anyhow,  they're  very  annoying,"  she  con- 
cluded. 

"He  said  he'd  come  again,  Peggy.  What  a  worm  I 
am  now!  I'm  horribly  afraid." 

"So  he  did,"  Peggy  reflected,  and  sat  silent  with  a 
queer  little  smile  on  her  lips. 

Trix  Trevalla  fell  into  a  new  fit  of  despair,  or  a  fresh 
outpouring  of  the  bitterness  that  was  always  in  her 
now. 

"  I  might  as  well,"  she  said.  "  I  might  just  as  well. 
What  else  is  there  left  for  me?  I've  made  shipwreck 
of  it  all,  and  Beaufort  Chance  isn't  far  wrong  about  me. 
He's  just  about  the  sort  of  fate  I  deserve.  Why  do  the 
things  you  deserve  make  you  sick  to  think  of  them? 
He  wouldn't  actually  beat  me  if  I  behaved  properly 
and  did  as  I  was  told,  I  suppose,  and  that's  about  as 
much  as  I  can  expect.  Oh,  I've  been  such  a  fool!" 

"Having  been  a  fool  doesn't  matter,  if  you're  sen- 
sible now,"  said  Peggy. 

"Sensible!  Yes,  he  told  me  to  be  sensible,  too!  I 
suppose  the  sensible  thing  would  be  to  tell  him  to  come 
again,  to  lie  down  before  him,  and  thank  him  very 
much  if  he  didn't  stamp  too  hard  on  me." 

Peggy  remembered  how  Mr.  Fricker  had  hinted  that 
Trix  was  very  much  in  the  position  in  which  her  own 
fancy  was  now  depicting  her.  Could  that  be  helped? 
It  seemed  not — without  four  thousand  pounds,  anyhow. 

Trix  came  and  leaned  over  the  back  of  her  chair. 
247 


THE   INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

"I  laughed  at  him,  Peggy — I  laughed,  but  I  might 
yield.  He  might  frighten  me  into  it.  And  I've  no- 
where else  to  turn.  Supposing  I  went  to  him  with  my 
hundred  a  year?  That's  about  what  I've  left  myself, 
I  suppose,  after  everything's  paid." 

"Well,  that's  a  lot  of  money,"  said  Peggy. 

"You  child!"  cried  Trix,  half  laughing,  half  cry- 
ing. "  But  you're  a  wonderful  child.  Can't  you  save 
me,  Peggy?" 

"What  from?" 

"Oh,  I  suppose,  in  the  end,  from  myself.  I'm  reck- 
less. I'm  drifting.  Will  he  come  again,  Peggy?" 

Peggy  had  no  radical  remedy,  but  her  immediate 
prescription  was  not  lacking  in  wisdom  as  a  temporary 
expedient.  She  sent  Trix  to  bed,  and  was  obeyed 
with  a  docility  that  would  have  satisfied  any  of  those 
who  had  set  themselves  to  teach  Trix  moral  lessons. 
Then  Peggy  herself  sat  down  and  engaged  in  the  task 
of  thinking.  It  had  not  been  at  all  a  prosperous  day. 
Flicker  was  a  source  of  despair,  Chance  of  a  new  ap- 
prehension ;  Trix  herself  was  a  perplexity  most  baffling 
of  all.  The  ruin  of  self-respect,  bringing  in  its  train 
an  abandonment  of  hope  for  self,  was  a  strange  and 
bewildering  spectacle;  she  did  not  see  how  to  effect  its 
repair.  Trix's  horror  of  yielding  to  the  man,  com- 
bined with  her  fear  that  she  might  yield,  was  a  state  of 
mind  beyond  Peggy's  power  of  diagnosis;  she  knew 
only  that  it  clamored  for  instant  and  strong  treat- 
ment. 

Beaufort  Chance  would  come  again!  Suddenly 
Peggy  determined  that  he  should — on  a  day  she  would 
fix !  She  would  charge  herself  with  that.  She  smiled 
again  as  a  hope  came  into  her  mind.  She  had  been 
considerably  impressed  with  Connie  Fricker. 

The  greater  puzzle  remained  behind,  the  wider, 

248 


THE    PERJURER 

more  forlorn  hope  on  which  everything  turned.     "  How 
much  do  men  love  women?"  asked  Peggy  Ryle. 

Then  the  thought  of  her  pledged  word  flashed  across 
her  mind.  She  might  not  tell  Airey  that  Trix  was 
ruined;  she  might  not  tell  Airey  that  she  herself  knew 
his  secret.  She  had  hoped  to  get  something  from 
Airey  without  those  disclosures;  it  was  hopeless  with- 
out them  to  ask  for  four  thousand  pounds — or  three 
thousand  five  hundred,  either. 

Having  been  sent  to  bed,  Trix  seemed  inclined  to 
stay  there.  She  lay  there  all  next  day,  very  quiet  but 
open-eyed,  not  resting,  but  fretting  and  fearing,  un- 
equal to  her  evil  fortune,  prostrated  by  the  vision  of 
her  own  folly,  bereft  of  power  to  resist  or  will  to  recover 
from  the  blow.  Peggy  watched  her  for  hours,  and 
then,  late  in  the  afternoon,  slipped  out.  Her  eyes  were 
resolute  under  the  low  brow  with  its  encroaching  waves 
of  sunny  hair. 

Airey  Newton  let  her  in.  The  door  of  the  safe  was 
ajar;  he  pushed  it  to  with  his  foot.  The  red-leather 
book  lay  open  on  the  table,  displaying  its  neatly  ruled, 
neatly  inscribed  pages.  He  saw  her  glance  at  it,  and 
she  noticed  an  odd  little  shrug  of  his  shoulders  as  he 
walked  across  the  room  and  put  the  tea  into  the  pot. 
She  had  her  little  bag  with  her,  and  laid  it  down 
by  the  bread-and-butter  plate.  Airey  knew  it  by 
sight ;  he  had  seen  her  stow  away  in  it  the  money 
which  he  delivered  to  her  from  the  custody  of  the 
safe. 

"  I  can't  fill  that  again  for  you/'  he  said,  warningly, 
as  he  gave  her  tea. 

"It's  not  empty.     The  money's  all  there." 

"And  you  want  me  to  take  care  of  it  again?"  His 
tone  spoke  approval. 

"  I  don't  know.     I  may  want  it,  and  I  mayn't, " 
249 


THE    INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

"You're  sure  to  want  it/'  he  declared,  in  smiling 
despair. 

"I  mean,  I  don't  know  whether  I  want  it  now — all 
in  a  lump — or  not." 

Her  bright  carelessness  of  spirit  had  evidently  de- 
serted her  to-day;  she  was  full  of  something.  Airey 
gulped  down  a  cup  of  tea,  lit  his  pipe,  and  waited.  He 
had  been  engrossed  in  calculations  when  she  arrived 
— calculations  he  loved — and  had  been  forced  to  con- 
ceal some  impatience  at  the  interruption.  He  forgot 
that  now. 

"There's  something  on  your  mind,  Peggy,"  he  said, 
at  last.  "  Come,  out  with  it!" 

"She's  broken — broken,  Airey.  She  can't  bear  to 
think  of  it  all.  She  can't  bear  to  think  of  herself.  She 
seems  to  have  no  life  left,  no  will." 

"You  mean  Mrs.  Trevalla?" 

"Yes.  They've  broken  her  spirit  between  them. 
They've  made  her  feel  a  child,  a  fool." 

"Who  have?  Do  you  mean  Mervyn?  Do  you 
mean — ?" 

"I  mean  Mr.  Beaufort  Chance — and,  above  all,  Mr. 
Fricker.  She  hasn't  told  you  about  them?" 

"  No.  I've  heard  something  about  Chance.  I  know 
nothing  about  Fricker." 

"  She  didn't  treat  them  fairly  —  she  knows  that. 
Knows  it — I  should  think  so!  Poor  Trix!  And  in 
return — "  Peggy  stopped.  One  of  the  secrets  trem- 
bled on  her  lips. 

"In  return,  what?"  asked  Airey  Newton.  He  had 
stopped  smoking,  and  was  standing  opposite  to  her 
now. 

"  They've  tricked  her  and  made  a  fool  of  her,  and  " — 
there  was  no  turning  back  now — "and  stripped  her 
of  nearly  all  she  had." 

250 


THE    PERJURER 

An  almost  imperceptible  start  ran  through  Airey; 
his  forehead  wrinkled  in  deep  lines. 

"They  bought  shares  for  her,  and  told  her  they 
would  be  valuable.  They've  turned  out  worth  noth- 
ing, and  somehow — you'll  understand — she's  liable  to 
pay  a  lot  of  money  on  them." 

"Hum!    Not  fully  paid,  I  suppose?" 

"  That's  it.  And  she's  in  debt  besides.  But  it's  the 
shares  that  are  killing  her.  That's  where  the  bitter- 
ness is,  Airey." 

"Does  she  know  you're  telling  me  this?" 

"I  gave  her  my  word  that  I'd  never  tell." 

Airey  moved  restlessly  about  the  room.  "Well?" 
he  said  from  the  other  end  of  it. 

"She  could  get  over  everything  but  that.  So  I 
went  to  Mr.  Fricker— " 

"You  went  to  Fricker?"  He  came  to  a  stand  in 
amazement. 

"  Yes,  I  went  to  Mr.  Fricker  to  see  if  he  would  con- 
sent to  tell  her  that  she  wasn't  liable,  that  the  shares 
had  turned  out  better,  and  that  she  needn't  pay.  I 
wanted  him  to  take  the  shares  from  her,  and  let  her 
think  that  he  did  it  as  a  matter  of  business." 

Airey  Newton  pointed  to  the  little  bag.  Peggy 
nodded  her  head  in  assent. 

"But  it's  not  nearly  enough.  She'd  have  to  pay 
three  thousand,  anyhow ;  he  won't  do  what  I  wish  for 
less  than  four.  He  doesn't  want  to  do  it  at  all;  he 
wants  to  have  her  on  her  knees,  to  go  on  knowing  she's 
suffering.  And  she  will  go  on  suffering  unless  we 
make  her  believe  what  I  want  her  to.  He  thought  I 
couldn't  get  anything  like  the  money  he  asked,  so  he 
consented  to  take  it  if  I  did.  He  told  me  to  come  back 
when  I  had  got  it,  Airey." 

"Has  she  got  the  money?" 
251 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"Yes — and  perhaps  enough  more  to  pay  her  debts, 
and  just  to  live.  But  it's  not  so  much  the  money ;  it's 
the  humiliation  and  the  shame.  Oh,  don't  you  under- 
stand? Mr.  Fricker  will  spare  her  that  if  —  if  he's 
bribed  with  a  thousand  pounds." 

He  looked  at  her  eager  eyes  and  flushed  cheeks; 
she  pushed  back  her  hair  from  her  brow. 

"He  asks  four  thousand  pounds,"  she  said,  and 
added,  pointing  to  the  little  bag,  "  There's  five  hundred 
there." 

As  she  spoke  she  turned  her  eyes  away  from  him 
towards  the  window.  It  did  not  seem  to  her  fair  to 
look  at  him;  and  her  gaze  would  tell  too  much,  per- 
haps. She  had  given  him  the  facts  now ;  what  would 
he  make  of  them?  She  had  broken  her  word  to  Trix 
Trevalla.  Her  pledge  to  Tommy  Trent  was  still  in- 
violate. Tommy  had  trusted  her  implicitly  when  she 
had  surprised  from  him  his  friend's  secret  that  his 
carelessness  let  slip.  He  had  taken  her  word  as  he 
would  have  accepted  the  promise  of  an  honorable  man, 
a  man  honorable  in  business  or  a  friend  of  years.  Her 
knowledge  had  counted  as  ignorance  for  him  because 
she  had  engaged  to  be  silent.  The  engagement  was 
not  broken  yet.  She  waited  fearfully.  Airey  could 
save  her  still.  What  would  he  do? 

The  seconds  wore  on,  seeming  very  long.  They 
told  her  of  his  struggle.  She  understood  it  with  a  rare 
sympathy,  the  sympathy  we  have  for  the  single  scar 
or  stain  on  the  heart  of  one  we  love;  towards  such  a 
thing  she  could  not  be  bitter.  But  she  hoped  pas- 
sionately that  he  himself  would  conquer,  would  spare 
both  himself  and  her.  If  he  did,  it  would  be  the  finest 
thing  in  the  world,  she  thought. 

She  heard  him  move  across  to  the  safe  and  lock  it. 
She  heard  him  shut  the  red-leather  book  with  a  bang. 

252 


THE    PERJURER 

Would  he  never  speak?    She  would  not  look  till  he  did, 
but  she  could  have  cried  to  him  for  a  single  word. 

"  And  that  was  what  you  wanted  your  five  hundred 
for?"  he  asked,  at  last. 

"My  five  hundred's  no  good  alone." 

"  It's  all  you've  got  in  the  world — well,  except  your 
pittance." 

She  did  not  resent  the  word;  he  spoke  it  in  compas- 
sion. She  turned  to  him  now  and  found  his  eyes  on 
her. 

"  Oh,  it's  nothing  to  me.  I  never  pay  any  attention 
to  money,  you  know."  She  managed  a  smile,  trying 
to  plead  with  him  to  think  any  such  sacrifice  a  small 
matter,  whether  in  another  or  in  himself. 

"Well,  I  see  your  plan,  and  it's  very  kind.  A  little 
Quixotic,  perhaps,  Peggy — " 

"Quixotic!  If  it  saves  her  pain?"  Peggy  flashed 
out,  in  real  indignation. 

"  Anyhow,  what's  the  use  of  talking  about  it?  Five 
hundred  isn't  four  thousand,  and  Fricker  won't  come 
down,  you  know." 

It  was  pathetic  to  her  to  listen  to  the  studied  care- 
lessness of  his  voice,  to  hear  the  easy,  reasonable  words 
come  from  the  twitching  lips,  to  see  the  forced  smile 
under  the  troubled  brow.  His  agony  wras  revealed  to 
her;  he  was  asked  to  throw  all  his  dearest  overboard. 
She  stretched  out  her  hands  towards  him. 

"I  might  get  help  from  friends,  Airey." 

"Three  thousand  five  hundred  pounds?" 

With  sad  bitterness  she  heard  him.  He  was  almost 
lying  now ;  his  manner  and  tone  were  a  very  lie. 

"Friends  who — who  loved  her,  Airey." 

He  was  silent  for  long  again,  moodily  looking  at  her. 

"Who  would  think  anything  well  done,  anything 
well  spent,  if  they  could  save  her  pain?" 

253 


THE  INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

With  an  abrupt  movement  he  turned  away  from 
her  and  threw  himself  into  a  chair.  He  could  no  longer 
bear  the  appeal  of  her  eyes.  At  last  it  seemed  strange 
as  well  as  moving  to  him.  But  he  could  have  no  sus- 
picion; he  trusted  Tommy  Trent  and  conceived  his 
secret  to  be  all  his  own.  His  old  great  shame  that 
Peggy  should  know  joined  forces  with  the  hidden  pas- 
sion that  was  its  parent ;  both  fought  to  keep  him  silent, 
both  enticed  him  to  delude  her  still.  Yet  when  she 
spoke  of  friends  who  loved  Trix  Trevalla,  whom  could 
she  touch,  whom  could  she  move,  as  she  touched  and 
moved  him?  The  appeal  went  to  his  heart,  trying  to 
storm  it  against  the  enemies  intrenched  there. 

Suddenly  Peggy  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and 
gave  one  short  sob.  He  looked  up  startled,  clutching 
the  arm  of  his  chair  with  a  fierce  grip.  He  sat  like 
that,  his  eyes  set  on  her.  But  when  he  spoke,  it  was 
lamely  and  almost  coldly. 

"Of  course  we  should  all  like  to  save  her  pain;  we 
would  all  do  what  we  could.  But  think  of  the  money 
wanted!  It's  out  of  the  question. " 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  faced  him.  For  the  mo- 
ment she  forgot  her  tenderness  for  him;  her  under- 
standing of  his  struggle  was  swept  away  in  indigna- 
tion. 

"You  love  her!"  she  cried,  in  defiant  challenge. 
"You  of  all  people  should  help  her.  You  of  all  peo- 
ple should  throw  all  you  have  at  her  feet.  You  love 
her!" 

He  made  no  denial;  he  rose  slowly  from  his  chair 
and  faced  her. 

"Oh,  what  is  love  if  it's  not  that?"  she  demanded. 
"  Why,  even  friendship  ought  to  be  that.  And  love — ! " 
Again  her  hands  were  outstretched  to  him  in  a  last 
appeal.  For  still  there  was  time — time  to  save  his 

254 


THE    PERJURER 

honor  and  her  own,  time  to  spare  him  and  her  the  last 
shame.  "It  would  be  riches  to  you,  riches  forever," 
she  said.  "Yes,  just  because  it's  so  hard,  Airey!" 

"What?"  The  word  shot  from  his  lips  full  of  star- 
tled fear.  Why  did  she  call  it  hard?  The  word  was 
strange.  She  should  have  said  "impossible."  Had 
he  not  put  it  before  her  as  impossible?  But  she  said 
"hard,"  and  looked  in  his  eyes  as  she  spoke  the  word. 

"Love  can't  make  money  where  it  isn't/'  he  went 
on,  in  a  dull,  dogged,  obstinate  voice. 

"  No,  but  it  can  give  it  where  it  is ! "  She  was  carried 
away.  "And  it's  here!"  she  cried,  in  accusing  tones. 

"Here?"  He  seemed  almost  to  spring  at  her  with 
the  word. 

"  Yes,  here,  in  this  room — in  that  safe — everywhere!" 

They  stood  facing  each  other  for  a  moment. 

"You  love  her — and  she's  ruined!" 

She  challenged  denial.  Airey  Newton  had  no  word 
to  say.  She  raised  her  hand  in  the  air  and  seemed  to 
denounce  him. 

"You  love  her,  she's  ruined,  and — you're  rich!  Oh, 
the  shame  of  it! — you're  rich,  you're  rich!" 

He  sank  back  into  his  chair  and  hid  his  face  from 
her. 

She  stood  for  a  moment,  looking  at  him,  breathing 
fast  and  hard.  Then  she  moved  quickly  to  him,  bent 
on  her  knee,  and  kissed  his  hand  passionately.  He 
made  no  movement,  and  she  slipped  quietly  and  swiftly 
from  the  room. 


XVIII 
AN  AUNT— AND  A  FRIEND 

"BARSLETT,  July  Ilth. 

MY  DEAR  SARAH,— How  I  wish  you  were  here !  You 
would  enjoy  yourself,  and  I  should  like  to  see  you  do- 
ing it — indeed,  I  should  be  amused.  I  never  dare  tell 
you,  face  to  face,  that  you  amuse  me — you'd  swell  visibly, 
like  the  person  in  Pickwick — but  I  can  write  it  quite  safely. 
We  are  a  family  party — or,  at  any  rate,  we  look  forward  to 
being  one  some  day,  and  even  now  escape  none  of  the  char- 
acteristics of  such  gatherings.  We  all  think  that  the  Proper 
Thing  will  happen  some  day,  and  we  tell  one  another  so. 
Not  for  a  long  while,  of  course!  First — and  officially — 
because  Mortimer  feels  things  so  deeply  (this  is  a  reference 
to  the  Improper  Thing  which  so  nearly  happened — are  you 
wincing,  Sarah?);  secondly — and  entirely  unofficially — be- 
cause of  a  bad  chaperon  and  a  heavy  pupil.  You  are  a 
genius ;  you  ought  to  have  had  seventeen  daughters,  all  twins 
and  all  out  together,  and  five  eldest  sons  all  immensely  eli- 
gible! Nature  is  so  limited.  But  me!  I'm  always  there 
when  I'm  not  wanted,  and  I  do  hate  leaving  a  comfortable 
chair.  But  I  try.  Do  I  give  you  any  clear  idea  when  I  say 
that  a  certain  young  person  wants  a  deal  of  hoisting — and 
is  very  ponderous  to  hoist?  And  I'm  not  her  mother,  or  I 
really  wouldn't  complain.  But  sometimes  I  could  shake 
her,  as  they  say.  No,  I  couldn't  shake  her,  but  I  should  like 
to  get  some  hydraulic  machinery  that  could.  However — 
it  moves  all  the  same!  What's-his-name  detected  that  in 
the  world,  which  is  certainly  slow  enough,  and  we  all  detect 
it  in  this  interesting  case — or  say  we  do.  And  I've  great 

256    " 


AN    AUNT  — AND    A    FRIEND 

faith  in  repeating  things.  It  spreads  confidence,  whence 
comes,  dear  Sarah,  action. 

"  Mortimer  is  here  a  lot,  but  is  somewhat  fretful.  The 
Trans-Euphratic,  it  seems,  is  fractious,  or  teething,  or  some- 
thing, and  Beaufort  Chance  has  been  nasty  in  the  House — 
notably  nasty  and  rather  able.  (Do  you  trace  any  private 
history?)  However,  I  dare  say  you  hear  enough  about  the 
Trans-Euphratic  at  home.  It  buzzes  about  here,  mingling 
soothingly  with  the  approaching  flower-show  and  a  calamity 
that  has  happened  to  a  pedigree  cow.  Never  mind  details 
of  any  of  them!  Sir  Stapleton  was  indiscreet  to  me,  but  it 
stops  there,  if  you  please.  How  sweet  the  country  is  in  a 
real  English  home! 

"  But  sometimes  we  talk  of  the  Past — and  the  P  is  large. 
There  is  a  thank-heaveny  atmosphere  of  pronounced  density 
about  Lady  B. — quite  sincere,  I  believe ;  she  has  realized  that 
flightiness  almost  effected  an  entry  into  the  family!  Morti- 
mer says  little — deep  feelings  again.  In  my  opinion  it  has 
done  him  some  little  good — which  we  and  Audrey  hope  speed- 
ily to  destroy.  (Oh,  that  child!  The  perfection  of  English 
girlhood,  Sarah;  no  less,  believe  me!)  My  lord  is  more  com- 
municative— to  me.  I  believe  he  likes  to  talk  about  it.  In 
fact,  Trix  made  some  impression  there;  possibly  there  is  a 
regret  hidden  somewhere  in  his  circumference.  He  took  me 
round  the  place  yesterday,  and  showed  me  the  scene  of  the 
flight.  I  should  think  going  to  Waterloo  must  give  one  some- 
thing of  the  same  feeling — if  one  could  be  conducted  by  a 
wounded  hero  of  the  fight.  This  was  the  conversation  that 
passed — or  something  like  it: 

"  Lord  B.  She  looked  almost  like  a  ghost. 

"Myself.  Heavens,  Lord  B. ! 

"  Lord  B.  (inserting  spud  in  ground).  This  was  the  very 
spot— the  SPOT! 

"  Myself.  You  surprise  me! 

"  Lord  B.  I  felt  certain  that  something  unusual  was  oc- 
curring. 

"  Myself.  Did  that  strike  you  at  once? 

"  Lord  B.  Almost,  Viola — I  say  almost — at  once.  She  came 
up.  I  remonstrated.  My  word  s  do  not  remain  in  my  memory. 
17  2ST 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

"  Myself.  Moments  of  excitement — 

"  Lord  B.  But  I  remonstrated,  Viola. 

"  Myself.  And  she  pushed  you  away? 

"  Lord  B.  She  did — and  ran  along  the  path  here — fol- 
lowing this  path  to  that  gate — 

"  Myself  (incredulously;  however  one's  supposed  to  show 
that).  That  very  gate,  Lord  B.? 

"  Lord  B.  It's  been  painted  since,  but  that  is  the  gate, 
Viola. 

"  Myself.  Fancy!  (There  isn't  any  other  gate,  you  know, 
so  unless  Trix  had  taken  the  fence  in  a  flying  leap,  one  doesn't 
see  what  she  could  have  done.) 

"  Lord  B.  Yes,  that  gate.  She  ran  through  it  and  along 
that  road — 

"Myself  (distrustfully).  That  road,  Lord  B.? 

"  Lord  B.  (firmly).  That  road,  Viola.  She  twisted  her 
veil  about  her  face,  caught  up  her  skirts — 

"Myself.   !   !   !   !  ! 

"  Lord  B.  And  ran  away  (impressively)  towards  the  sta- 
tion, Viola! 

"  Myself.  Did  you  watch  her? 

"  Lord  B.  Till  she  was  out  of  sight — of  sight,  Viola! 

"  Myself.  I  never  realized  it  so  clearly  before,  Lord  B. 

"  Lord  B.  It  is  an  experience  I  shall  never  forget. 

"  Myself.  I  should  think  not,  Lord  B. 

"  Then  the  excellent  old  dear  said  that  he  trusted  he  had  no 
unchristian  feelings  towards  Trix;  he  had  been  inclined  to 
like  her,  and  so  on.  But  he  failed  to  perceive  how  they  could 
have  treated  her  differently  in  any  single  particular.  '  You 
could  not  depend  on  her  word,  Viola.'  I  remembered,  Sarah, 
that  in  early  youth,  and  under  circumstances  needless  to 
specify  exactly,  you  could  not  depend  on  mine — unless  the 
evidence  against  me  was  hopelessly  clear.  I  suppose  that 
was  Trix's  mistake.  She  fibbed  when  she  was  bound  to  be 
found  out,  and  saw  it  herself  a  minute  later.  Have  you  any 
personal  objection  to  my  dropping  a  tear? 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  say  I  should  go  on  writing  if  there  was 
anything  else  to  do,  but  it  will  open  your  mind  to  give  you 
one  more  scrap. 

258 


AN    AUNT  — AND    A    FRIEND 

"  Myself.  What,  Audrey,  dear,  come  in  already?  (It  is 
9.30  P.M. — evening  fine — moon  full.) 

"  Audrey.  Yes,  it  was  rather  chilly,  auntie,  and  there's  a 
heavy  dew. 

"  Myself  (sweetly).  I  thought  it  such  a  charming  evening 
for  a  stroll. 

"  Audrey.  I  was  afraid  of  my  new  frock,  auntie. 

"  Myself  (very  sweetly).  You're  so  thoughtful,  dear.  Has 
Mortimer  come  in,  too? 

"  Audrey.  I  knew  he  was  busy,  so  I  told  him  he 
mustn't  leave  his  work  for  me.  He  went  in  directly  then, 
auntie. 

"Myself  (most  sweetly).  How  thoughtful  of  you,  darling ! 

"  Audrey.  He  did  suggest  I  should  stay  a  little  while,  but 
the  dew — 

"  Myself  (breaking  doicn).  Good  gracious,  Audrey,  what 
in  the  world,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

"  Audrey  (pathetically).  I'm  so  sorry,  auntie,  dear! 

"  Now  what  would  you  do  in  such  a  case,  Herr  Professor 
Sarah? 

"  No  doubt  things  will  turn  out  for  the  best  in  the  end,  and 
I  suppose  I  shall  be  grateful  to  poor  Trix.  But  for  the  mo- 
ment I  wish  to  goodness  she'd  never  run  away!  Anyhow, 
she  has  achieved  immortality.  Barmouths  of  future  ages 
will  hush  their  sons  and  daughters  into  good  marriages  by 
threatening  them  with  Trix  Trevalla.  She  stands  forever 
the  Monument  of  Lawlessness — with  locks  bedraggled  and 
skirts  high  above  the  ankle!  She  has  made  this  aristocratic 
family  safe  for  a  hundred  years.  She  has  not  lived  in  vain. 
And  tell  me  any  news  of  her.  Have  you  had  the  Prickers 
to  dinner  since  my  eye  was  off  you?  There,  I  must  have  my 
little  joke.  Forgive  me,  Sarah!  Affectionately, 

"V.  B." 

"Tut!"  said  Mrs.  Bonfill,  laying  down  the  letter,  ex- 
tracts from  which  she  had  been  reading  to  her  friend 
Lord  Glentorly. 

"She's  about  right  as  to  Chance,  anyhow,"  he  re- 
259 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

marked.  "I  was  in  the  House,  and  you  couldn't  mis- 
take his  venom." 

"He  doesn't  count  any  longer."  Mrs.  Bonfill  pro- 
nounced the  sentence  ruthlessly. 

"No,  not  politically.  And  in  every  other  way  he's 
no  more  than  a  tool  of  Fricker's.  Fricker  must  have 
him  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  He  knows  how  he 
stands;  that's  the  meaning  of  his  bitterness.  But  he 
can  make  poor  Mortimer  feel,  all  the  same.  Still,  as 
you  say,  there's  an  end  of  him!" 

"And  of  her,  tool  She  was  an  extraordinary  young 
woman,  George." 

"Uncommonly  attractive — no  ballast,"  summed  up 
Glentorly.  "You  never  see  her  now,  I  suppose?" 

"Nobody  does,"  said  Mrs.  Bonfill,  using  "nobody" 
in  its  accepted  sense.  She  sighed  gently.  "You 
can't  help  people  who  won't  be  helped." 

"So  Viola  Blixworth  implies,"  he  reminded  her, 
with  a  laugh. 

"Oh,  Viola's  hopelessly  flippant;  but  she'll  manage 
it  in  the  end,  I  expect."  She  sighed  again  and  went 
on:  "I  don't  know  that,  after  all,  one  does  much  good 
by  meddling  with  other  people's  affairs." 

"  Come,  come,  this  is  only  a  moment  of  despondency, 
Sarah." 

"I  suppose  so,"  she  agreed,  with  returning  hope. 
To  consider  that  her  present  mood  represented  a  right 
and  ultimate  conclusion  would  have  been  to  pronounce 
a  ban  on  all  her  activities.  "  I've  half  a  mind  to  pro- 
pose myself  for  a  visit  to  Barslett." 

"You  couldn't  do  better,"  Lord  Glentorly  cordially 
agreed.  "Everything  will  soon  be  over  here,  you  see." 

She  looked  at  him  a  little  suspiciously.  Did  he  sug- 
gest that  she  should  retreat  for  a  while  and  let  the  talk 
of  her  failures  blow  over?  He  was  an  old  friend,  and 

260 


AN    AUNT  — AND    A    FRIEND 

it  was  conceivable  that  he  should  seek  to  convey  such 
a  hint  delicately. 

"I  had  one  letter  from  Trix,"  she  continued.  "A 
confused  rigmarole — explanations,  and  defence,  and 
apologies,  and  all  the  rest  of  it." 

"What  did  you  write  to  her?" 

" I  didn't  write  at  all.     I  put  it  in  the  fire." 

Glentorly  glanced  at  his  friend  as  she  made  this 
decisive  reply.  Her  handsome,  rather  massive  feat- 
ures were  set  in  a  calm  repose;  no  scruples  or  doubts 
as  to  the  rectitude  of  her  action  assailed  her.  Trix 
had  chosen  to  jump  over  the  pale ;  outside  the  pale  she 
must  abide.  But  that  night,  when  a  lady  at  dinner 
argued  that  she  ought  to  have  a  vote,  he  exclaimed, 
with  an  unmistakable  shudder,  "By  Jove,  you'd  be 
wanting  to  be  judges  next ! ' '  What  turned  his  thoughts 
to  that  direful  possibility? 

But  of  course  he  did  not  let  Mrs.  Bonfill  perceive  any 
dissent  from  her  judgment  or  her  sentence.  He  con- 
tented himself  with  saying,  "Well,  she's  made  a  pretty 
mess  of  it!" 

"There's  nothing  left  for  her — absolutely  nothing," 
Mrs.  Bonfill  concluded.  Her  tone  would  have  excused, 
if  not  justified,  Trix's  making  an  end  of  herself  in  the 
river. 

Lady  Glentorly  was  equally  emphatic  on  another 
aspect  of  the  case. 

"It's  a  lesson  to  all  of  us,"  she  told  her  husband. 
"I  don't  acquit  myself,  much  less  can  I  acquit  Sarah 
Bonfill.  This  taking  up  of  people  merely  because 
they're  good  -  looking  and  agreeable  has  gone  far 
enough.  You  men  are  mainly  responsible  for  it." 

"My  dear!"  murmured  Glentorly,  weakly. 

"  It's  well  enough  to  send  them  a  card  now  and  then, 
but  anything  more  than  that — we  must  put  our  foot 

261 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

down.  The  Barmouths  of  all  people!  I  declare  it 
serves  them  right!" 

"  The  affair  seems  to  have  resulted  in  serving  every- 
body right,"  he  reflected.  "So  I  suppose  it's  all  for 
the  best." 

"Marriage  is  the  point  on  which  we  must  make  a 
stand."  After  a  short  pause  she  added  an  inevitable 
qualification:  "Unless  there  are  overwhelming  rea- 
sons the  other  way.  And  this  woman  was  never  even 
supposed  to  be  more  than  decently  off." 

"The  Barmouths  are  very  much  the  old  style.  It 
was  bad  luck  that  she  should  happen  on  them." 

"Bad  luck,  George?     It  was  Sarah  Bonfill!" 

"Bad  luck  for  Mrs.  Trevalla,  I  mean." 

"You  take  extraordinary  views  sometimes,  George. 
Now,  I  call  it  a  Providence." 

In  face  of  a  difference  so  irreconcilable,  Glentorly 
abandoned  the  argument.  There  were  a  few  like 
him  who  harbored  a  shamefaced  sympathy  for  Trix. 
They  were  awed  into  silence,  and  the  sentence  of  con- 
demnation passed  unopposed. 

Yet  there  were  regrets  and  longings  in  Mervyn's 
heart.  Veiled  under  his  dignified  manner,  censured 
by  his  cool  judgment,  hustled  into  the  background  by 
his  resolute  devotion  to  the  Trans-Euphratic  Railway 
and  other  affairs  of  state,  made  to  seem  shameful  by 
his  determination  to  find  a  new  ideal  in  a  girl  of  Audrey 
Pollington's  irreproachable  stamp,  they  maintained  an 
obstinate  vitality,  and,  by  a  perverse  turn  of  feeling, 
drew  their  strength  from  the  very  features  in  Trix  and 
in  Trix's  behavior  which  had  incurred  his  severest 
censure  while  she  was  still  his  and  with  him. 

Remembering  her  recklessness  and  her  gayety,  re- 
calling her  hardly  suppressed  rebellion  against  the 
life  he  asked  her  to  lead  and  the  air  he  gave  her  to 

262 


AN    AUNT  — AND    A    FRIEND 

breathe,  rehearsing  even  the  offences  which  had,  di- 
rectly or  indirectly,  driven  her  to  flight  and  entailed 
exile  on  her,  he  found  in  her  the  embodiment  of  some- 
thing that  he  condemned  and  yet  desired,  of  something 
that  could  not  be  contained  in  his  life,  and  thereby 
seemed  in  some  sort  to  accuse  that  life  of  narrowness. 
She  had  shown  him  a  country  which  he  could  not  and 
would  not  enter;  at  moments  the  thought  of  her  de- 
risively beckoned  him  whither  he  could  not  go.  At 
last,  under  the  influence  of  these  ideas,  which  grew 
and  grew  as  the  first  shock  of  amazed  resentment  wore 
off,  he  came  to  put  questions  to  himself  as  to  the  part 
that  he  had  played,  to  realize  a  little  how  it  had  all 
seemed  to  her.  This  was  not  to  blame  himself  or  his 
part;  he  and  it  were  still  to  him  right  and  inevitable. 
But  it  was  a  step  towards  perceiving  something  deeper 
than  the  casual  perversity  or  dishonesty  of  one  woman. 
He  had  inklings  of  an  ultimate  incompatibility  of  lives, 
of  ways,  of  training,  of  thought,  of  outlook  on  the  world. 
Both  she  and  he  had  disregarded  the  existence  of  such 
a  thing.  The  immediate  causes  of  her  flight — her  dis- 
honesty and  her  fear  of  discovery — became,  in  this 
view,  merely  the  occasion  of  it.  In  the  end  he  asked 
whether  she  had  not  shown  a  kind  of  desperate  cour- 
age, perhaps  even  a  wild  inspiration  of  wisdom,  in 
what  she  had  done.  Gradually  his  anger  against  her 
died  away,  and  there  came  in  its  place  a  sorrow,  not 
that  the  thing  she  fled  from  was  not  to  be,  but  that  it 
never  could  have  been  in  any  true  or  adequate  sense. 
Perhaps  she  herself  had  seen  that — seen  it  in  some 
flashing  vision  of  despair  which  drove  her  headlong 
from  the  house  by  night.  Feelings  that  Trix  could 
not  analyze  for  herself  he  thought  out  for  her  with 
his  slow,  narrow,  but  patient  and  thorough-going  mind. 
The  task  was  hard,  for  wounded  pride  still  cried  out  in 

263 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

loud  protest  against  it;  but  he  made  way  with  it.  If 
he  could  traverse  the  path  of  it  to  the  end,  there  stood 
comprehension,  yes,  and  acquiescence;  then  it  would 
appear  that  Trix  Trevalla  had  refused  to  pile  error  on 
error ;  in  her  blind  way  she  would  have  done  right. 

That  things  we  have  desired  did  not  come  to  pass 
may  be  sad ;  that  they  never  could  have  is  sadder,  by 
so  much  as  the  law  we  understand  seems  a  more  cruel 
force  than  the  chance  that  hits  us  once,  we  know  not 
whence,  and  may  never  strike  again.  The  chance 
seems  only  a  perverse  accident  falling  on  us  from  out- 
side; the  law  abides,  a  limitation  of  ourselves.  Tow- 
ards such  a  consciousness  as  this  Mervyn  struggled. 

At  last  he  hinted  something  of  what  was  in  his  mind 
to  Viola  Blixworth.  He  talked  in  abstract  terms, 
with  an  air  of  studying  human  nature,  not  of  discus- 
sing any  concrete  case;  he  was  still  a  little  pompous 
over  it,  and  still  entirely  engrossed  in  his  own  feelings. 
His  preoccupation  was  to  prove  that  he  deserved  no 
ridicule,  since  fate,  and  not  merely  folly,  had  made  him 
its  unwilling  plaything.  She  heard  him  with  un- 
usual seriousness,  in  an  instant  divining  the  direction 
of  his  thoughts;  and  she  fastened  on  the  mood,  turn- 
ing it  to  what  she  wanted. 

"That  should  make  you  tolerant  towards  Mrs.  Tre- 
valla," she  suggested,  as  they  walked  together  by  the 
fountains. 

"  I  suppose  so,  yes.  It  leaves  us  both  slaves  of  some- 
thing too  strong  for  us." 

She  passed  by  the  affected  humility  that  defaced 
his  smile;  she  never  expected  too  much,  and  was  find- 
ing in  him  more  than  she  had  hoped. 

"If  you've  any  allowance  for  her,  any  gentleness 
towards  her — " 

"I  feel  very  little  anger  now." 
264 


AN    AUNT  — AND    A    FRIEND 

"Then  tell  her  so,  Mortimer.  Oh,  I  don't  mean  go 
to  her.  On  all  accounts  you'd  better  not  do  that." 
(Her  smile  was  not  altogether  for  Mervyn  here;  she 
spared  some  of  it  for  her  duties  and  position  as  an  aunt.) 
"But  write  to  her." 

"What  should  I  say?"  The  idea  was  plainly  new 
to  him.  "Do  you  mean  that  I'm  to  forgive  her?" 

"I  wouldn't  put  it  quite  like  that,  Mortimer.  That 
would  be  all  right  if  you  were  proposing  to — renew  the 
arrangement.  But  I  suppose  you're  not?" 

He  shook  his  head  decisively.  As  a  woman  Lady 
Blixworth  was  rather  sorry  to  see  so  much  decision; 
it  was  her  duty  as  an  aunt  to  rejoice. 

"  Couldn't  you  manage  to  convey  that  it  was  no- 
body's fault  in  particular?  Or  something  like  that?" 

He  weighed  the  suggestion.  "I  couldn't  go  quite 
so  far,"  he  concluded,  with  a  judicial  air. 

"Well,  then,  that  the  mistake  was  in  trying  it  at  all? 
Or  in  being  in  a  hurry?  Or — or  that  perhaps  your 
manner — " 

"No,  I  don't  think  there  was  anything  wrong  with 
my  manner." 

"Could  you  say  you  understood  her  feelings — or, 
at  any  rate,  allowed  for  them?" 

"Perhaps  I  might  say  that." 

"  At  any  rate  you  could  say  something  comforting." 
She  put  her  arm  through  his.  "  She's  miserable  about 
you,  I  know.  You  can  say  something?" 

"I'll  try  to  say  something." 

"I  know  you'll  say  it  nicely.  You're  a  gentleman, 
Mortimer." 

"  She  could  not  have  used  a  better  appeal,  simple  as  it 
sounded.  All  through  the  affair — all  through  his  life, 
it  might  be  said — he  had  been  a  gentleman;  he  had 
never  been  consciously  unkind,  although  he  had  often 

265 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

been  to  Trix  unconsciously  unbearable.  Viola  Blix- 
worth  put  him  on  his  honor  by  the  name  he  reverenced. 

"You'll  feel  better  after  you've  done  it,  and  more 
like  settling  down  again,"  said  she.  Friendship  and 
auntship  mingled.  It  would  comfort  Trix  to  hear  that 
he  had  no  bitterness ;  it  would  certainly  assist  Audrey 
if  he  could  cease  from  studying  his  precise  feelings,  of 
any  nature  whatsoever,  about  another  woman.  Lady 
Blixworth  was  so  accustomed  to  finding  her  motives 
mixed  that  a  moderate  degree  of  adulteration  in  them 
had  ceased  to  impair  her  satisfaction  with  a  useful 
deed.  Besides,  is  not  auntship  also  praiseworthy? 
Society  said  yes,  and  she  never  differed  from  it  when 
its  verdicts  were  convenient. 

The  letter  was  written;  it  was  a  hard  morning's 
work,  for  he  penned  it  as  carefully  as  though  it  were  to 
go  into  some  archives  of  state.  He  would  say  no  more 
than  the  truth  as  he  had  at  last  reached  it;  he  said 
no  less  with  equal  conscientiousness.  The  result  was 
stiff  with  all  his  stiffness,  but  there  was  kindness  in  it 
too.  It  was  not  forgiveness;  it  was  acquiescence  and 
a  measure  of  understanding.  And  he  convinced  him- 
self more  and  more  as  he  wrote ;  in  the  end  he  did  come 
very  near  to  saying  that  there  had  been  mistakes  on 
both  sides ;  he  even  set  it  down  as  a  possible  hypothesis 
that  the  initial  error  had  been  his.  He  had  a  born  re- 
spect for  written  documents,  and  of  written  documents 
not  the  least  of  his  respect  was  for  his  own.  He  had 
never  felt  so  sure  that  there  was  an  end  of  Trix  Tre- 
valla,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  as  when  he  had  put 
the  fact  on  record  over  his  own  signature. 

With  a  sigh  he  rose  and  came  out  into  the  garden. 
Audrey  sat  there  reading  a  novel,  which  she  laid  face 
downward  in  her  lap  at  his  approach.  He  took  a 
chair  by  her,  and  looked  round  on  the  domain  that  was 

266 


AN    AUNT  — AND    A    FRIEND 

to  be  his.  Then  he  glanced  at  statuesque  Audrey. 
Lady  Blixworth  viewed  them  from  afar;  an  instinct 
told  her  that  the  letter  had  been  written.  The  aunt 
hoped  while  the  friend  rejoiced. 

"  He  must  have  proved  that  he  needs  quite  a  differ- 
ent wife  from  Trix,  and  where  could  he  find  one  more 
different?"  she  mused. 

"It's  beautiful  here  in  summer,  isn't  it?"  he  asked 
Audrey. 

"It  must  be  splendid  always,"  said  she. 

"I  wish  public  life  allowed  me  to  enjoy  more  of  it." 
It  is  what  public  men  generally  say. 

"Your  work  is  so  important,  you  see." 

He  stretched  out  his  legs  and  took  off  his  hat. 

"But  you  must  rest  sometimes,"  she  urged,  with  an 
imploring  glance. 

"  So  my  mother's  always  telling  me.  Well,  anyhow, 
since  you  like  Barslett,  I  hope  you'll  stay  a  long  time, 
Miss  Pollington." 

It  was  not  much,  but  Audrey  carried  it  to  Lady  Blix- 
worth— or,  to  put  the  matter  with  more  propriety,  she 
repeated  his  remark  quite  casually.  It  was  not  poor 
Audrey's  fault  if,  in  self-defence,  she  had  to  make  the 
most  of  such  remarks.  Lady  Blixworth  kissed  her 
niece  thoughtfully. 

"  Another  year  of  my  life,"  she  remarked  to  the  look- 
ing-glass that  evening,  in  the  course  of  a  study  of  time's 
ravages — "another  year  or  thereabouts  will  probably 
see  a  successful  termination  to  the  affair." 

She  smiled  a  little  bitterly.  Her  life,  as  she  under- 
stood the  term,  had  few  more  years  to  run,  and  to  give 
up  one  was  a  sacrifice.  It  was,  however,  no  use  try- 
ing to  alter  the  Barmouth  pace.  She  had  done  what 
she  could — a  good  turn  to  Trix  Trevalla,  another  little 
lift  to  Audrejr. 

267 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"I'm  becoming  a  regular  Sarah  Bonfill,"  she  con- 
cluded, as  she  went  down  to  dinner. 

The  next  Saturday  Mrs.  Bonfill  herself  came. 

"How  is  Mortimer?"  she  whispered  at  the  first  op- 
portunity. 

"My  dear  Sarah,  I  doubt  if  you  could  have  inter- 
fered with  more  tactfulness  yourself." 

"And  where's  dear  Audrey?" 

"I  hope  and  believe  that  she's  sticking  pins  into  a 
map  to  show  where  the  Trans-Euphratic  is  to  run. 
Kindly  pat  me  on  the  back,  Sarah/ 

Mrs.  BonfnTs  smile  was  friendly  pat  enough,  but  it 
was  all  for  Audrey;  she  asked  nothing  about  Trix 
Trevalla. 

Wide  apart  as  the  two  were,  Trix  read  the  letter 
with  something  of  the  feeling  under  which  Mervyn 
had  written  it.  He  was  a  good  man,  but  not  good  for 
her — that  seemed  to  sum  up  the  matter.  Perhaps 
her  first  smile  of  genuine  mirth  since  her  fall  and  flight 
was  summoned  to  her  lips  by  the  familiar  stiffness, 
the  old  careful  balance  of  his  sentences,  the  pain  by 
which  he  held  himself  back  from  lecturing.  A  smile 
of  another  kind  recognized  his  straightforwardness 
and  his  chivalry;  he  wrote  like  a  gentleman,  as  Viola 
Blixworth  knew  he  would.  She  was  more  in  sympathy 
with  him  when  he  deplored  the  gulf  between  them  than 
when  he  had  told  her  it  was  but  a  ford  which  duty 
called  on  her  to  pass.  "How  much  have  I  escaped, 
and  how  much  have  I  lost?"  she  asked;  but  the  ques- 
tion came  in  sadness,  not  in  doubt.  It  was  not  hers 
to  taste  the  good ;  it  would  have  been  hers  to  drink  the 
evil  to  the  dregs.  Reading  his  letter,  she  praised  him 
and  reviled  herself;  but  she  rejoiced  that  she  had  left 
him  while  yet  there  was  time;  she  rejoiced  honestly 
to  see  that  she  would  remain  in  his  memory  as  a  thing 

268 


AN    AUNT  — AND    A    FRIEND 

that  was  unaccountable,  that  should  not  have  been, 
that  had  come  and  gone,  had  given  some  pain  but  had 
done  no  permanent  harm. 

"I've  got  off  cheaply/'  she  thought;  her  own  suf- 
ferings were  not  in  her  mind,  but  his;  she  was  glad 
that  her  burden  of  guilt  was  no  heavier.  For  Mervyn 
was  not  as  Beaufort  Chance;  he  had  done  nothing  to 
make  her  feel  that  they  were  quits  and  her  wrong-doing 
obliterated  by  the  revenge  taken  for  it.  She  could 
blame  herself  less,  since  even  Mervyn  seemed  to  see 
that,  if  to  begin  had  been  criminal,  to  go  on  would  have 
been  worse.  But  bitterness  wras  still  in  her;  her  folly 
seemed  still  so  black,  her  ruin  so  humiliating,  that  she 
must  cry,  "  Unfit  for  him !  No,  it's  for  any  man  that 
I'm  unfit!"  Mervyn  could  but  comfort  her  a  little  as 
to  what  concerned  himself;  her  sin  against  herself  re- 
mained unpardoned.  And  now  in  her  mind  that  sin 
had  taken  on  a  darker  color;  since  she  had  looked  in 
Airey  Newton's  eyes  she  could  not  believe  herself  the 
woman  who  had  done  such  things.  The  man  who, 
having  found  the  pearl,  went  out  and  sold  all  that  he 
had  and  bought  the  field  where  it  lay,  doubtless  did 
well  and  was  well  pleased.  What  did  the  vendor  feel 
who  bartered  his  right  for  a  small  price  because  he  had 
overlooked  the  pearl? 

Mervyn  showed  her  reply  to  Lady  Blixworth — an- 
other proof  that  Aunt  Viola  was  advancing  in  his  con- 
fidence and  repressing  natural  emotions  with  a  laudable 
devotion  to  duty — and  Audrey  Pollington.  Upon  this 
Lady  Blixworth  wrote  to  Peggy  Ryle : 

"This  letter  is  not,"  she  said,  "to  praise  myself, 
Peggy,  nor  to  point  out  my  many  virtues,  but  to  ask  a 
question.  I  have  indeed  done  much  good.  Mortimer 
is  convinced  that  immutable  laws  were  in  fault — and 
I  agree,  since  the  dulness  of  Barslett  and  the  family 

269 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

preachiness  are  absolutely  immutable.  Trix  is  con- 
vinced too — and  again  I  agree,  since  Trix  is  naturally 
both  headlong  and  sincere,  an  awful  combination  if 
one  were  married  to  Mortimer.  So  I  praise  myself  for 
having  made  them  both  resigned  and  presently  to  be 
cheerful.  Needless  to  say,  I  praise  myself  on  another 
score,  and  am  backing  myself  to  mother  young  women 
against  Sarah  Bonfill  herself  (who,  by -the -way,  is 
here,  and  resettles  the  Cabinet  twice  a  day  —  mere 
bravado,  I  believe,  after  her  shocking  blunders,  but 
Sarah  bravadoes  with  a  noble  solidity  that  makes  the 
thing  almost  a  British  quality  1).  I  wander!  What 
I  really  ask — and  I  want  to  ask  it  in  italics — is,  'Who 
is  she  in  love  with  ? '  Trix,  I  mean,  of  course.  I  am 
not  in  telegraphic,  telephonic,  or  telepathic  communica- 
tion with  her,  but  she  says  in  her  letter  to  Mortimer, 
'I  was  not  fit  for  you.  Am  I  fit  for  any  man?'  My 
dear,  believe  your  elders  when  you  can,  and  listen  in 
silence  when  you  can't!  In  all  my  experience  I  never 
knew  a  woman  ask  that  question  unless  she  was  in 
love.  Heavens,  do  we  want  to  be  fit  for  or  to  please  the 
Abstract  Man?  Not  a  bit  of  it,  Peggy!  The  idea  is 
even  revolting,  as  a  thousand  good  ladies  would  prove 
to  you.  'Am  I  fit  for  any  man?'  Who's  'any  man/ 
Peggy?  Let's  have  his  name  and  the  street  where  he 
resides.  For  my  part,  I  believed  there  was  a  man  at 
the  back  of  it  all  the  time — which  was  no  great  sagacity 
— and  I  said  so  to  Lord  Barmouth — which  I  felt  to  be 
audacity.  Peggy,  tell  me  his  name.  'Am  I  fit  for 
any  man?'  Poor  Trix  is  still  rather  upset  and  melo- 
dramatic! But  we  know  what  it  means.  And  what 
are  you  doing?  Do  you  want  a  husband?  Here  am 
I,  started  in  trade  as  an  honest  broker!  Come  along!" 
This  letter,  Peggy  felt,  was  in  a  way  consoling ;  she 
hoped  that  Trix  was  in  love.  But  so  far  as  it  seemed 

270 


AN    AUNT  — AND    A    FRIEND 

to  be  intended  to  be  amusing,  Peggy  really  didn't  see 
it.  The  fact  is,  Peggy  was  in  a  mood  to  perceive  wit 
only  of  the  clearest  and  most  commanding  quality. 
Things  were  very  dark,  indeed,  just  these  days,  with 
Peggy.  However,  she  replied  to  Lady  Blixworth, 
said  she  had  no  notion  what  she  meant,  but  told  her 
that  she  was  a  good  friend  and  a  good  aunt. 

"The  latter  statements,"  observed  Lady  Blixworth, 
complacently,  "are  at  the  present  moment  true.  As 
for  the  former— oh,  Peggy,  Peggy!" 

She  was,  in  fact,  rather  hurt.  A  refusal  to  betray 
one  friend  is  usually  considered  a  reflection  on  the 
discretion  of  another.  Women  are  really  as  bad  as 
men  about  this. 


XIX 

NO  MORE  THAN  A  GLIMMER 

FORTY-EIGHT  hours  had  passed  since  Peggy  Ryle 
fled  from  Danes  Inn.  How  they  had  gone  Airey 
Newton  could  scarcely  tell;  as  he  looked  back,  they 
seemed  to  hold  little  except  the  ever-reiterated  cry, 
"The  shame  of  it! — you're  rich!"  But  still  the  con- 
tents of  the  safe  were  intact,  and  no  entries  had  been 
cancelled  in  the  red-leather  book.  A  dozen  times  he 
had  taken  the  book,  looked  through  it,  and  thrown  it 
from  him  again.  A  clash  of  passions  filled  him;  the 
old  life  he  had  chosen,  with  its  strange,  strong,  secret 
delight  and  its  sense  of  hidden  power,  fought  against 
the  new  suggestion.  It  was  no  longer  of  much  moment 
to  him  that  Peggy  knew  or  that  it  was  Peggy's  voice 
which  had  cried  out  the  bitter  reproach.  These  things 
now  seemed  accidental.  Peggy  or  another — it  mattered 
little. 

Yet  he  had  sent  for  Tommy  Trent,  and  reproached 
him;  he  was  eager  to  reproach  anybody  besides  him- 
self. 

"I  told  nobody,"  protested  Tommy,  in  indignant 
surprise.  Then  the  thought  flashed  on  him.  "Was 
it  Peggy?"  he  asked,  incredulously.  Airey's  nod 
started  all  the  story.  His  view  was  what  Peggy  had 
foreseen;  he  found  no  arguments  to  weigh  against 
that  breaking  of  her  word  which  had  made  him  seem 
a  traitor  in  the  eyes  of  his  friend. 

272 


NO    MORE    THAN    A   GLIMMER 

"A  woman  setting  the  world  right  is  the  most  un- 
scrupulous thing  in  the  world/'  he  declared,  angrily. 
"You  believe  I  never  meant  to  break  faith,  old  fellow? 
I  shall  have  it  out  with  her,  you  may  be  sure."  He 
paused  and  then  added,  "  I  can't  believe  she'll  let  it  go 
any  further,  you  know." 

To  that  also  Airey  seemed  more  than  half  indifferent 
now;  the  old  furtive  solicitude  for  his  secret,  the  old 
shame  lest  it  should  escape,  seemed  to  be  leaving  him, 
or  at  least  to  be  losing  half  their  force,  in  face  of  some 
greater  thing  in  his  mind.  He  had  himself  to  deal 
with  now — what  he  was,  not  what  was  said  or  thought 
of  him.  But  he  did  not  intercede  with  Tommy's  stern- 
ness against  Peggy ;  he  let  it  pass. 

"I  don't  blame  you.  It's  done  now.  You'd  better 
leave  me  alone,"  he  said. 

Tommy  went  and  sought  Peggy  with  wrath  in  his 
heart;  but  for  all  these  two  days  she  was  obstinately 
invisible.  She  was  not  to  be  found  in  Harriet  Street, 
and  none  of  her  circle  had  seen  her.  It  may  be  sur- 
mised that  she  wandered  desolately  through  fashion- 
able gatherings  and  haunts  of  amusement,  slinking 
home  late  at  night.  It  is  certain  that  she  did  not  wish 
to  meet  Tommy  Trent,  that  she  would  not  for  the  world 
have  encountered  Airey  Newton.  There  seemed  to  be 
gunpowder  in  the  air  of  all  familiar  places;  in  the  re- 
action of  fear  after  her  desperate  venture  Peggy  with- 
drew herself  to  the  safety  of  the  unknown. 

Airey  sat  waiting,  his  eyes  constantly  looking  to 
the  clock.  Trix  was  coming  to  see  him ;  she  had  writ- 
ten that  she  needed  advice,  and  that  he  was  the  only 
friend  she  had  to  turn  to  in  such  a  matter.  "Peggy 
is  no  use  to  me  in  the  particular  way  I  want  help,  and 
I  have  something  to  tell  which  I  could  tell  to  nobody 
but  her  or  you."  He  knew  what  she  had  to  tell;  the 
,8  273 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

fact  that  she  came  to  tell  it  to  him  was  proof  positive 
that  she  had  heard  nothing  from  Peggy.  He  had  not 
forbidden  her  coming.  Though  it  might  be  agony  to 
him,  yet  he  willed  that  she  should  come;  beyond  that 
point  his  will  was  paralyzed. 

In  dainty  and  costly  garb  she  came,  still  the  vision 
of  riches  that  had  first  struck  his  eyes  when  he  saw 
her  at  the  beginning  of  her  campaign  in  London; 
yet,  though  this  was  her  outward  seeming,  her  air 
and  manner  raised  in  him  a  remoter  memory,  bringing 
back  to  mind  the  pathetic  figure  at  the  Paris  hotel.  It 
was  easy  to  see  that  she  held  no  secret  of  his,  and  that 
he  had  no  reproach  to  fear.  Her  burden  lay  in  her 
own  secret  that  she  must  tell,  in  the  self-reproach  against 
which  she  had  no  defence.  Of  neither  part  of  Peggy's 
double  treachery  had  she  any  suspicion. 

"Long  ago  I  told  you  I  should  come  if  I  got  into 
trouble.  Here  I  am!"  Her  effort  at  gayety  was  trem- 
ulous and  ill-sustained. 

"Yes,  I  know  you've  been  in  trouble." 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  that.  That's  all  over.  It's 
something  else.  Will  you  listen?  It's  not  easy  to 
say." 

He  gave  her  a  chair  and  stood  by  the  mantel-piece 
himself,  leaning  his  elbow  on  it  and  his  chin  on  his 
hand.  For  a  minute  or  two  he  did  not  attend  to  her; 
his  mind  flew  back  to  his  own  life,  to  his  past  work 
and  its  success,  to  those  fruits  of  success  which  had 
come  to  usurp  the  place  not  merely  of  success  but  of 
the  worthy  work  itself.  She  had  been  stammering 
out  the  first  part  of  her  story  for  some  while  before  he 
turned  to  her  and  listened,  with  sombre  eyes  set  on  her 
nervous  face.  At  that  instant  she  seemed  to  him  an 
enemy.  She  had  come  to  rob  him.  Why  should  he 
be  robbed  because  this  woman  had  been  a  fool?  So 

274 


NO    MORE    THAN    A    GLIMMER 

put,  the  argument  sounded  strong  and  sensible;  it 
made  short  work  of  sentimentality.  If  he  sent  her 
away  empty,  what  harm  was  done?  Tommy  Trent 
would  think  as  he  had  always  thought — no  less,  no 
worse.  For  the  rest,  it  was  only  to  take  just  offence 
with  the  girl  who  had  put  him  to  shame,  and  to  see 
her  no  more.  The  old  life,  the  old  delight,  held  out 
alluring  arms  to  him. 

Trix  Trevalla  stumbled  on,  all  unconscious  of  the 
great  battle  that  she  fought  for  another,  anxious  only 
to  tell  her  story  truthfully,  and  yet  not  so  as  to  seem  a 
creature  too  abject. 

"  That's  the  end  of  it,"  she  said,  at  last,  with  a  woful 
smile.  "After  Glowing  Stars  and  the  other  debts,  I 
may  have  forty  shillings  a  week  or  thereabouts.  But 
I  want  to  show  you  my  investments,  and  I  want  you 
to  tell  me  what  I  ought  to  sell  and  what  few  I  might 
best  try  to  keep.  Every  pound  makes  a  difference, 
you  know."  The  intense  conviction  of  a  convert 
spoke  in  the  concluding  words. 

"Why  do  you  think  I  know  about  such  things?" 
"  Oh,  I  dare  say  Mr.  Trent  would  know  better,  but  I 
couldn't  make  up  my  mind  to  tell  him.  And  I've  no 
right  to  bother  him.  I  seem  to  have  a  right  to  bother 
you,  somehow."  She  smiled  again  for  an  instant, 
and  raised  her  eyes  to  his.  "Because  of  what  you 
said  at  Paris!  You  remember?" 

"You  hold  me  responsible  still,  I  see." 
"Oh,  that's  our  old  joke,"  she  said,  fearing  to  seem 
too  serious  in  her  fanciful  claim.  "But  still  it  does 
always  seem  to  me  that  we've  been  in  it  together;  all 
through  it  your  words  have  kept  coming  back,  and 
I've  thought  of  you  here.  I  think  you  were  always  in 
my  mind.  Well,  that's  foolish.  Anyhow,  you'll  tell 
me  what  you  think?" 

275 


THE    INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"At  least,  I  didn't  tell  you  to  trust  Pricker." 

"  Please  don't,"  she  implored.  "  That's  the  worst  of 
all.  That's  the  thing  I  can't  bear  to  think  of.  I 
thought  myself  a  match  for  him.  And  now — "  Her 
outspread  hands  accepted  any  scornful  description. 

She  came  to  him  and  put  into  his  hand  a  paper  on 
which  she  had  drawn  up  some  sort  of  a  statement  of 
her  ventures,  of  her  debts,  and  of  her  position  as  she 
understood  it.  He  took  it  and  glanced  through  it. 

"Heavens,  how  you  spent  money!"  he  exclaimed,  in 
involuntary  horror. 

She  blushed  painfully :  could  she  point  out  how  lit- 
tle that  had  mattered  when  she  was  going  to  be  Lady 
Mervyn? 

"  And  the  losses  in  speculation !  You  seem  never  to 
have  made  anything!" 

"They  deceived  me,"  she  faltered.  "Oh,  I  know  all 
that!  Must  you  say  that  again?  Tell  me  —  what 
will  there  be  left?  Will  there  be  enough  to — to  exist 
upon?  Or  must  I" — she  broke  into  a  smile  of  ridicule 
— "or  must  I  try  to  work?" 

There  was  a  pathetic  absurdity  about  the  suggestion. 
Airey's  gruff  laugh  relieved  the  sternness  of  his  in- 
dignation. 

"Yes,  I've  shown  such  fine  practical  talents,  haven't 
I?"  she  asked,  forlornly. 

"  You  were  very  extravagant,  but  you'd  have  been  in 
a  tolerable  position  but  for  Pricker.  Dramoffskys  and 
Glowing  Stars  between  them  have  done  the  mischief." 

"  Yes.  If  I  hadn't  cheated  him,  and  he  hadn't  cheat- 
ed me  in  return,  I  should  have  been  in  a  tolerable  po- 
sition. But  I  knew  that  before  I  came  here,  Mr.  New- 
ton." 

"Well,  it's  the  truth,"  he  persisted,  looking  at  her 
grimly  over  the  top  of  the  paper. 

276 


NO    MORE   THAN    A    GLIMMER 

"  You  needn't  repeat  it,"  she  flashed  out,  indignantly. 
Then  her  tone  changed  suddenly.  "Forgive  me;  it's 
so  hard  to  hear  the  truth  sometimes,  to  know  it's  true, 
to  have  nothing  to  answer." 

"Yes,  it  is  hard  sometimes,"  Airey  agreed. 

"Oh,  you  don't  know.  You've  not  cheated  and 
been  cheated;  you've  had  nothing  to  conceal,  nothing 
to  lie  about,  nothing  that  you  dreaded  being  found 
out  in."  She  wrung  her  hands  despairingly. 

"I've  warned  you  before  now  not  to  idealize  me." 

"I  can't  help  it.  I  believe  even  your  Paris  advice 
was  all  right,  if  I'd  understood  it  rightly.  You  didn't 
mean  that  I  was  to  think  only  of  myself  and  nothing 
of  anybody  else,  to  do  nothing  for  any  one,  to  share 
nothing  with  any  one.  You  meant  I  was  to  make  other 
people  happy,  too,  didn't  you?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  meant,"  he  growled,  as  he  laid 
her  paper  on  the  mantel-piece. 

Trix  wandered  to  the  window  and  sat  down  in  the 
chair  generally  appropriated  to  Peggy  Ryle. 

"I'm  sick  of  myself,"  she  said. 

"A  self's  not  such  an  easy  thing  to  get  rid  of, 
though." 

She  glanced  at  him  with  some  constraint.  "I'm 
afraid  I'm  bothering  you.  I  really  have  no  right  to 
make  you  doleful  over  my  follies.  You've  kept  out 
of  it  all  yourself;  I  needn't  drag  you  into  it."  She 
rose  as  if  she  would  go.  Airey  Newton  stood  motion- 
less. It  seemed  as  though  he  would  let  her  leave  him 
without  a  word. 

She  had  not  in  her  heart  believed  that  he  would. 
She  in  her  turn  stood  still  for  a  moment.  When  he 
made  no  sign,  she  raised  her  head  in  proud  resent- 
ment ;  her  voice  was  cold  and  offended.  "  I'm  sorry  I 
troubled  you,  Mr.  Newton."  She  began  to  walk  tow- 

277 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

ards  the  door,  passing  him  on  the  way.  Suddenly  he 
sprang  forward  and  caught  her  by  the  hands. 

"Don't  gol"  he  said,  in  a  peremptory  yet  half -stifled 
whisper. 

Trix's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  I  thought  you  couldn't 
really  mean  to  do  that,"  she  murmured.  "  Oh,  think  of 
what  it  is,  think  of  it!  What's  left  for  me?" 

He  had  loosed  her  hands  as  quickly  as  he  had  caught 
them,  and  she  clasped  them  in  entreaty. 

"  I'm  neither  bad  enough  nor  good  enough.  I  tried 
to  marry  for  position  and  money.  I  was  bad  enough 
to  do  that.  I  wasn't  bad  enough  to  go  on  telling  the 
lies.  Oh,  I  began!  Now  I'm  not  good  enough  or  brave 
enough  to  face  wrhat  I've  brought  myself  to.  And  yet 
it  would  kill  me  to  be  bad  enough  and  degraded  enough 
to  take  the  only  way  out." 

"What  way  do  you  mean?" 

"I  can't  tell  you  about  that,"  she  said.  "I  should 
be  too  ashamed.  But  some  day  you  may  hear  I've 
done  it.  How  am  I  to  resist?  Is  it  worth  resisting? 
Am  I  worth  saving  at  all?" 

She  had  never  seemed  to  him  so  much  worth  saving. 
And  he  knew  that  he  could  save  her,  if  he  wrould  pay 
the  price.  He  guessed,  too,  what  she  hinted  at;  there 
was  only  one  thing  that  a  woman  like  her  could  speak 
of  as  at  once  a  refuge  and  a  degradation,  as  a  thing  that 
killed  her  and  yet  a  thing  that  she  might  come  to  do. 
Peggy  Ryle  had  told  him  that  he  loved  her,  and  he  had 
not  denied  it  then.  Still  less  could  he  deny  it  now, 
with  the  woman  herself  before  him  in  living  presence. 

She  saw  that  he  had  guessed  what  was  in  her  mind. 

"Men  can't  understand  women  doing  that  sort  of 
thing,  I  know,"  she  went  on.  "I  suppose  it  strikes 
them  with  horror.  They  don't  understand  what  it  is 
to  be  helpless."  Her  voice  shook.  " I've  had  a  great 

278 


NO    MORE    THAN    A   GLIMMER 

deal  of  hardship,  and  I  can't  bear  it  any  more.  I'm  a 
coward  in  the  end,  I  suppose.  My  gleam  of  good  days 
has  made  me  a  coward  at  the  thought  of  bad  ones 
again."  She  added,  after  a  pause,  "You'll  look  at 
the  statement  and  let  me  know  what  you  think,  won't 
you?  It  might  just  make  all  the  difference."  'Again 
she  paused.  "It  seems  funny  to  stand  here  and  tell 
you^that,  if  necessary,  I  shall  probably  sell  myself; 
that's  what  it  comes  to.  But  you  know  so  much 
about  me  already,  and  — and  I  know  you'd  like  me 
if — if  it  was  humanly  possible  to  do  anything  except 
despise  me.  Wouldn't  you?  So  do  look  carefully  at 
the  paper  and  go  into  the  figures,  please.  Because  I — 
even  I — don't  want  to  sell  myself  for  money." 

What  else  was  he  doing  with  himself?  The  words 
hit  home.  If  the  body  were  sold,  did  not  the  soul  pass 
too?  If  the  soul  were  bartered,  what  value  was  it  to 
keep  the  body?  Peggy  had  begged  him  to  save  this 
woman  pain ;  unconsciously  she  herself  asked  a  greater 
rescue  than  that.  And  she  offered  him,  still  all  un- 
consciously, a  great  salvation.  Was  it  strange  that 
she  should  talk  of  selling  herself  for  money?  Then 
was  it  not  strange,  too,  that  he  had  been  doing  that  very 
thing  for  years,  and  had  done  it  of  deliberate  choice, 
under  the  stress  of  no  fear  and  of  no  necessity?  The 
picture  of  himself  that  had  been  dim,  that  Tommy 
Trent  had  always  refused  to  make  clearer,  that  even 
Peggy  Kyle's  passionate  reproach  had  left  still  but 
half  revealed,  suddenly  stood  out  before  his  eyes  plain 
and  sharp  in  every  outline.  He  felt  that  it  was  a  thing 
to  be  loathed. 

She  saw  his  face  stern  and  contracted  with  the  pain 
of  his  thoughts. 

"Yes,  I've  told  you  all  the  truth  about  myself,  and 
that's  how  you  look!"  she  said. 

279 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

He  smiled  bitterly  at  her  mistake,  and  fixed  his  eyes 
on  her  as  he  asked: 

"  Could  you  change  a  man  if  you  gave  yourself  to 
him?  Could  you  drive  out  his  devil  and  make  a  new 
fellow  of  him?  Could  you  give  him  a  new  life,  a  new 
heart,  a  new  character?" 

"I  should  have  no  such  hopes.  My  eyes  would  be 
quite  open."  Her  thoughts  were  on  Beaufort  Chance. 

"No,  but  couldn't  you?"  he  urged,  with  a  wistful 
persistence.  "  If  you  knew  the  worst  of  him  and  would 
still  look  for  something  good — something  you  could 
love  and  could  use  to  make  the  rest  better?  Couldn't 
you  make  him  cease  being  what  he  hated  being? 
Couldn't  you  have  a  power  greater  than  the  power  of 
the  enemy  in  him?  If  you  loved  him,  I  mean." 

"  How  could  1  love  him?"  she  asked,  wonderingly. 

"If  he  loved  you?" 

"What  does  such  a  man  mean  by  love?"  she  mur- 
mured, scornfully. 

"I  wonder  if  you  could  do  anything  like  that,"  he 
went  on.  "Women  have,  I  suppose.  Could  you?" 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  about  the  thing.  I  hope  I  may  have 
courage  to  throw  it  aside." 

He  started  a  little.  "Ah,  you  mean —  No,  I  was 
thinking  of  something  else." 

"And  how  could  such  a  woman  as  I  am  make  any 
man  better?"  She  smiled  in  a  faint  ridicule  of  the 
idea;  but  she  ceased  to  think  of  leaving  him,  and  sat 
down  by  the  table.  For  the  moment  he  seemed  to  pay 
little  attention  to  where  she  was  or  what  she  did;  he 
spoke  to  her  indeed,  but  his  air  was  absent  and  his 
eyes  aloof. 

"Because,  if  the  woman  couldn't,  if  it  turned  out 
that  she  couldn't,  the  last  state  would  be  worse  than 
the  first.  Murder  added  to  felo  de  se!  There's  that 

280 


NO    MORE    THAN    A    GLIMMER 

to  consider."  Now  he  returned  to  her  in  an  active 
consciousness  of  her  presence.  "Suppose  you  loved  a 
man  who  had  one  great — well,  one  great  devil  in  him? 
Could  you  love  a  man  with  a  devil  in  him?" 

There  was  a  touch  of  humor  hardly  won  in  his  voice. 
Trix  responded  to  it. 

"With  a  thousand,  if  he  was  a  man  after  all!" 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  dare  say.  But  with  one — one  immense 
fellow — a  fellow  who  had  sat  on  him  and  flattened  him 
for  years?  Could  you  fight  the  fellow  and  beat  him?" 

Trix  thought.  "I  think  I  might  have  perhaps, 
before — before  I  got  a  devil  too,  you  know." 

"  Say  he  was  a  swindler  —  could  you  keep  him 
straight?  Say  he  was  cruel — could  you  make  him 
kind?"  He  paused  an  instant.  "Suppose  he  was  a 
churl — could  you  open  his  heart?" 

"  All  that  would  be  very,  very  hard,  even  for  a  good 
woman,"  said  Trix  Trevalla.  "And  you  know  that 
in  a  case  something  like  those  I  failed  before." 

"Because,  if  you  couldn't,  it  would  be  hell  to  you, 
and  worse  hell  to  him." 

"Yes,"  murmured  Trix.  "That  would  be  it  ex- 
actly." 

"But  if  you  could — "  He  walked  to  the  window 
and  looked  out.  "It  would  be  something  like  pulling 
down  the  other  side  of  the  Inn  and  giving  the  sun  fair 
play,"  said  he. 

"But  could  the  man  do  anything  for  her?"  asked 
Trix.  "Something  I  said  started  you  on  this.  The 
man  I  thought  of  would  do  nothing  but  make  the  bad 
worse.  If  she  were  mean  first,  he'd  make  her  meaner; 
if  she  lied  before,  she'd  have  to  lie  more;  and  he'd — 
he'd  break  down  the  last  of  her  woman's  pride." 

"I  don't  mean  a  man  like  that." 

"No,  and  you're  not  thinking  of  a  woman  like  me." 
281 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

"She'd  have  to  take  the  place  of  the  thing  that  had 
mastered  him;  he'd  have  to  find  more  delight  in  her 
than  in  it;  she'd  have  to  take  its  place  as  the  centre  of 
his  life."  He  was  thinking  out  his  problem  before 
her. 

At  last  Trix  was  stirred  to  curiosity.  Did  any  man 
argue  another's  case  like  this?  Was  any  man  roused 
in  this  fashion  by  an  abstract  discussion?  Or  if  he 
were  dissuading  her  from  the  step  she  had  hinted  at, 
was  not  his  method  perversely  roundabout?  She 
looked  at  him  with  inquiring  eyes.  In  answer  he  came 
across  the  room  to  her. 

"Yet,  if  there  were  a  man  and  a  woman  such  as 
we've  been  speaking  of,  and  there  was  half  the  shadow 
of  a  chance,  oughtn't  they  to  clutch  at  it?  Oughtn't 
they  to  play  the  bold  game?  Ought  they  to  give  it 
up?" 

His  excitement  was  unmistakable  now.  Again  he 
looked  in  her  eyes  as  he  had  once  before.  She  could  do 
nothing  but  look  up  at  him,  expecting  what  he  would 
say  next.  But  he  drew  back  from  her,  seeming  to  re- 
pent of  what  he  had  said,  or  to  retreat  from  its  natural 
meaning.  He  wandered  back  to  the  hearth-rug,  and 
fingered  the  statement  of  her  position  that  lay  on  the 
mantel-piece.  He  was  frowning  and  smiling  too;  he 
looked  very  puzzled,  very  kindly,  almost  amused. 

"Wouldn't  they  be  fools  not  to  have  a  shot?"  he 
asked,  presently.  "  Only  she  ought  to  know  the  truth 
first,  and  he'd  find  it  deuced  hard  to  tell  her." 

"She  would  have  found  it  very  hard  to  tell  him." 

"But  she  would  have?" 

"  Yes — if  she  loved  him,"  said  Trix,  smiling.  "  Con- 
fession and  humiliation  comfort  women  when  they're 
in  love.  When  they're  not — "  She  shuddered.  Pre- 
sumably Barslett  came  into  her  mind. 

282 


NO    MORE    THAN    A    GLIMMER 

"If  he  never  told  her  at  all,  would  that  be  fair?" 

"She  couldn't  forgive  that,  if  she  found  it  out." 

"No?" 

"Well,  it  would  be  very  difficult." 

"But  if  she  never  found  it  out?" 

"  That  would  be  the  grandest  triumph  of  all  for  her, 
perhaps,"  said  Trix,  very  softly.  For  now,  vague,  un- 
defined, ignorant  still,  but  yet  sure  at  its  mark,  had 
come  the  idea  that  somehow,  for  some  reason,  Airey 
Newton  spoke  not  of  Beaufort  Chance,  nor  of  another, 
not  of  some  abstraction  or  some  hypothetical  man,  but 
of  his  very  self.  "My  prayer  to  him  would  be  not  to 
tell  me,  and  that  I  might  never  know  on  earth.  If  I 
knew  ever,  anywhere,  then  I  should  know,  too,  what 
God  had  let  me  do." 

"  But  if  he  never  told  you,  and  some  day  you  found 
out?" 

Trix  looked  across  at  him — at  his  dreary  smile  and 
his  knitted  brow.  She  amended  the  judgment  she  had 
given  a  minute  before:  "We  could  cry  together,  or 
laugh  together,  or  something,  couldn't  we?"  she  asked. 

He  came  near  her  again  and  seemed  to  take  a  sur- 
vey of  her  from  the  feather  in  her  hat  to  the  toe  of  her 
polished  boot. 

"It's  a  confounded  incongruous  thing  that  you 
should  be  ruined,"  he  grumbled;  his  tone  was  a  sheer 
grumble,  and  it  made  Trix  smile  again. 

"  A  fool  and  her  money — "  she  suggested  as  a  time- 
honored  explanation.  "But  ruin  doesn't  suit  me, 
there's  no  doubt  of  that.  Perhaps,  after  all,  I  was 
right  to  try  to  be  rich,  though  I  tried  in  such  question- 
able ways." 

"You  wouldn't  be  content  to  be  poor?" 

Trix  was  candid  with  him  and  with  herself.  "Pos- 
sibly— if  everything  else  was  very  perfect." 

283 


THE    INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

He  pressed  her  hard.  "Could  everything  else  seem 
perfect?" 

She  laughed  uncomfortably.  "  You  understand  won- 
derfully well,  considering — \"  A  little  wave  of  her 
arm  indicated  the  room  in  Danes  Inn. 

"Yes,  I  understand,"  he  agreed,  gravely. 

Again  she  rose.  "Well,  I'm  a  little  comforted," 
she  declared.  "You  and  Peggy  and  the  rest  of  you 
always  do  me  good.  You  always  seemed  the  alterna- 
tive in  the  background.  You're  the  only  thing  now — 
or  I'll  try  to  make  you.  That  doesn't  sound  over- 
whelminglv  cordial,  but  it's  well  meant,  Mr.  New- 
ton." 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  but  added  as  an  after- 
thought, "  And  you  will  tell  me  what  to  do  about  the 
investments,  won't  you?" 

"And  what  will  you  do  about  the  other  man?" 

Her  answer  was  to  give  him  both  hands,  saying, 
"Help  me!" 

He  looked  long  at  her  and  at  last  answered,  "Yes, 
if  you'll  let  me." 

"Thanks,"  she  murmured,  pressing  his  hands  and 
then  letting  them  go  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  He  smiled 
at  her,  but  not  very  brightly ;  there  was  an  effort  about 
it.  She  understood  that  the  subject  was  painful  to 
him,  because  it  suggested  degradation  for  her;  she 
had  a  hope  that  it  was  distasteful  for  another  reason ; 
to  her  these  were  explanations  enough  for  the  forced 
aspect  of  his  smile. 

He  took  up  the  paper  again,  and  appeared  to  read  it 
over. 

"Not  a  bad  list/'  he  said.  "You  ought  to  be  able 
to  realize  pretty  well,  as  prices  go  now;  they're  not 
ruling  high,  you  know." 

"What  a  lot  you  learn  from  your  eyry  here!" 
284 


NO    MORE    THAN    A    GLIMMER 

"All  that  comes  in  in  business,"  he  assured  her. 
"No,  they're  not  so  bad." 

"Except  Glowing  Stars!  But,  after  all,  most  of 
them  are  Glowing  Stars." 

He  appeared  to  consider  again;  then  he  said,  slowly, 
and  as  though  every  word  cost  him  a  thought,  "  I 
shouldn't  altogether  despair  even  of  Glowing  Stars. 
No,  don't  be  in  a  hurry  to  despair  of  Glowing  Stars." 

"What?"  Incredulity  cried  out  in  her  tone,  mingled 
with  the  fancied  hope  of  impossible  good  -  fortune. 
"  You  can't  conceivably  mean  that  Mr.  Flicker  is  wrong 
about  them?  Oh,  if  that  were  true!" 

"Does  it  make  all  that  difference?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes !  Not  the  money  only,  but  the  sense 
of  folly  —  of  childish,  miserable  silliness."  She  was 
eager  to  show  him  how  much  that  fancied  distant  hope 
could  mean. 

"I  promise  nothing — but  Flicker  deceived  you  be- 
fore. He  lied  when  he  told  you  they  were  all  right; 
he  may  be  lying  when  he  tells  you  they're  all  wrong." 

"But  what  good  could  that  do  him?" 

"If  you  threw  them  on  the  market  the  price  would 
fall.  Suppose  he  wanted  to  buy!" 

Luckily  Trix  did  not  wait  to  analyze  the  suggestion ; 
she  flew  to  the  next  difficulty. 

"But  the  liability?" 

"I'll  look  into  it  and  let  you  know.  Don't  cherish 
any  hope." 

"No;  but  you  must  have  meant  that  there  was  a 
glimmer  of  hope?"  she  insisted,  urgently,  turning  a 
strained,  agitated  face  up  to  his. 

"  If  you'll  swear  to  think  it  no  more  than  a  glimmer 
— a  glimmer  let  it  be." 

"You  always  tell  me  the  truth.  I'll  remember — a 
glimmer." 

285 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

"No  more/'  he  insisted,  with  a  marked  pertinacity. 

"No  more,  on  my  honor,"  said  Trix  Trevalla. 

She  had  gone  towards  the  door;  he  followed  till  he 
was  by  the  little  table.  He  stood  there  and  picked  up 
the  red  book  in  his  hand. 

"No  more  than  a  glimmer,"  he  repeated,  "because 
things  may  go  all  wrong  in  the  end  still." 

"Not  if  they  depend  on  you!"  she  cried,  with  a  gay- 
ety  inspired  by  the  hope  which  he  did  not  altogether 
forbid,  and  by  the  trust  that  she  had  in  him. 

"Even  though  they  depended  altogether  on  me." 
He  flung  the  book  down  and  came  close  to  her.  "If 
they  go  right,  I  shall  thank  Heaven  for  sending  you 
here  to-day.  And  now — I  have  a  thing  that  I  must 
do." 

"Yes,  I've  taken  a  terrible  lot  of  your  time.  Good- 
bye." She  yielded  to  her  impulse  towards  intimacy, 
towards  knowing  what  he  did,  how  he  spent  his  time. 
"Are  you  going  to  work?  Are  you  going  to  try  and 
invent  things?" 

"No,  I'm  going  to  study  that  book."  He  pointed 
to  it  with  a  shrug. 

"What's  inside?" 

"I  don't  know  what  I  shall  find  inside,"  he  told  her. 
"Good  news  or  bad?  The  old  story  or  a  new  one?  I 
can't  tell." 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me — that's  clear  anyhow," 
laughed  Trix.  "Impertinent  questions  politely  evad- 
ed! I  take  the  hint.  Good-bye.  And,  Mr.  Newton 
— a  glimmer  of  hope!" 

"Yes,  a  glimmer,"  he  said,  passing  his  hand  over 
his  brow  rather  wearily. 

"Well,  I  must  leave  you  to  the  secrets  of  the  red 
book,"  she  ended. 

He  came  to  the  top  of  the  stairs  with  her.     Half-way 
286 


NO    MORE    THAN    A    GLIMMER 

down  she  turned  and  kissed  her  hand  to  him.  Her 
step  was  a  thousand  times  more  buoyant;  her  smiles 
came  as  though  native-born  again  and  no  longer  timid 
strangers.  Such  was  the  work  that  a  glimmer  of  hope 
could  do. 

To  subtract  instead  of  adding,  to  divide  instead  of 
multiplying,  to  lessen  after  increase,  to  draw  out  in- 
stead of  paying  in — these  operations,  whether  with 
regard  to  a  man's  fame,  or  his  power,  or  his  substance, 
or  even  the  scope  of  his  tastes  and  the  joy  of  his  recre- 
ations, are  precisely  those  which  philosophy  assumes 
to  teach  us  to  perform  gracefully  and  with  no  exagger- 
ated pangs.  The  man  himself  remains,  says  popular 
philosophy;  and  the  pulpit  sometimes  seconds  the 
remark,  adding  thereunto  illustrative  texts.  Conso- 
lations conceived  in  this  vein  are  probably  useful, 
even  though  they  may  conceal  a  fallacy  or  succeed  by 
some  pious  fraud  on  the  truth.  It  is  a  narrow  view  of 
a  man  which  excludes  what  he  holds,  what  he  has 
done  and  made.  If  he  must  lose  his  grasp  on  that, 
part  of  his  true  self  goes  with  it.  The  better  teachers 
inculcate  not  throwing  away  but  exchange,  renuncia- 
tion here  for  the  sake  of  acquisition  there,  a  narrowing 
of  borders  on  one  side  that  there  may  be  strength  to 
conquer  fairer  fields  on  the  other.  Could  Airey  New- 
ton, who  had  so  often  turned  in  impatience  or  deafness 
from  the  first  gospel,  perceive  the  truth  of  the  second? 
He  was  left  to  fight  for  that — left  between  the  red  book 
and  the  memory  of  Trix  Trevalla. 

But  Trix  went  home  on  feet  lighter  than  had  borne 
her  for  many  a  day.  To  her  nature  hope  was  ever 
fact,  or  even  better — richer,  wider,  more  brightly  col- 
ored. Airey  had  given  her  hope.  She  swung  back 
the  baize  door  of  Peggy's  flat  with  a  cheerful  vigor, 
and  called  aloud : 

287 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

"Peggy,  where  are  you?  I've  something  to  tell 
you,  Peggy." 

For  once  Peggy  was  there.  "I'm  changing  my 
frock/'  she  cried  from  her  room,  in  a  voice  that  sounded 
needlessly  prohibitory. 

"I  want  to  tell  you  something,"  called  Trix.  "I've 
been  to  Airey  Newton's — " 

Peggy's  door  flew  open;  she  appeared  gownless; 
her  brush  was  in  her  hand,  and  her  hair  streamed  down 
her  back. 

"Oh,  your  hair!"  exclaimed  Trix — as  she  always 
did  when  she  saw  it  thus  displayed. 

Peggy's  scared  face  showed  no  appreciation  of  the 
impulsive  compliment. 

"You've  been  to  Airey's,  and  you've  something  to 
tell  me?"  she  said,  scanning  Trix  with  unconcealed 
anxiety. 

But  Trix  did  not  appear  to  be  in  an  accusing  mood ; 
she  had  no  charge  of  broken  faith  to  launch  or  of  con- 
fidence betrayed. 

"I  told  him  how  I  stood — that  I  was  pretty  well 
ruined,"  she  explained,  "and  he  was  so  kind  about  it. 
And  what  do  you  think?"  She  paused  for  effect. 
Peggy  had  recourse  to  diplomacy ;  she  flung  her  mass- 
es of  hair  to  and  fro,  passing  the  brush  over  them  in 
quick,  dexterous  strokes  as  they  went. 

"Well?"  she  asked,  with  more  indifference  than  was 
even  polite,  much  less  plausible. 

But  Trix  noticed  nothing;  she  was  much  too  full  of 
the  news. 

"  He  told  me  there  was  a  glimmer  of  hope  for  Glowing 
Stars!" 

"He  said  that?" 

Peggy's  voice  now  did  full  justice  to  the  importance 
of  the  tidings. 

288 


NO    MORE   THAN    A   GLIMMER 

"  Yes,  hope  for  Glowing  Stars.  Peggy,  if  it  should 
come  out  right!" 

"If  it  should!"  gasped  Peggy.  "What  did  you  say 
he  said?" 

"That  there  was  hope  for  Glowing  Stars — that  I 
oughtn't  to—" 

"No,  you  told  me  another  word;  you  said  he  used 
another  word." 

"Oh  yes,  he  was  very  particular  about  it,"  smiled 
Trix.  "And,  of  course,  I  mustn't  exaggerate.  He 
said  there  was  a  glimmer  of  hope." 

"Ah!"  said  Peggy.  "Ill  come  into  the  other  room 
directly,  dear." 

She  went  back  to  the  looking-glass  and  proceeded 
with  the  task  of  brushing  her  hair.  Her  face  under- 
went changes  which  that  operation  (however  artisti- 
cally performed  and  consistently  successful  in  its  ef- 
fect) hardly  warranted.  She  frowned,  she  smiled, 
she  grew  pensive,  she  became  gloomy,  she  nodded, 
she  shook  her  head.  Once  she  shivered  as  though  in 
apprehension.  Once  she  danced  a  step,  and  then 
stopped  herself  with  an  emphatic  and  angry  stamp. 

"  A  glimmer  of  hope!"  she  murmured  at  last.  "  And 
poor,  dear  old  Airey's  left  there  in  Danes  Inn,  fighting 
it  out  alone!"  She  joined  her  hands  behind  her  head, 
burying  them  in  the  thickness  of  her  hair.  "Oh, 
Airey,  dear,  be  good,"  she  whispered;  "do  be  good!" 

She  was  so  wrapped  up  in  this  invocation  or  entreaty 
that  she  quite  lost  sight  of  the  fact  that  she  herself 
was  relieved  of  one  part  of  her  burden.  Trix  could 
not  charge  her  with  treachery  now.  But  then  it  had 
never  been  Trix's  accusation  that  she  feared  the  most. 


XX 

PURELY  BUSINESS 

THEY  did  not  know  what  they  had  been  summoned 
for,  and  they  were  rather  discontented. 

"Just  in  the  middle  of  a  business  man's  business 
day!"  ejaculated  Arty  Kane. 

"Just  as  I'm  generally  sat  down  comfortably  to 
lunch!"  Miles  Childwick  grumbled. 

"Just  when  I'm  settling  down  to  work  after  break- 
fast!" moaned  Arty. 

They  were  waiting  in  the  sitting-room  at  Harriet 
Street.  It  was  2.15  in  the  afternoon.  A  hansom 
stood  in  the  street;  they  had  chartered  it,  according  to 
orders  received. 

"What  does  she  want  us  for?"  asked  Arty. 

"A  wanton  display  of  dominion,  in  all  likelihood," 
suggested  Miles,  gloomily. 

"I'm  not  under  her  dominion,"  objected  Arty,  who 
was  for  the  moment  devoted  to  a  girl  in  the  country. 

"I've  always  maintained  that  you  were  no  true 
poet,"  said  Miles,  disagreeably. 

Peggy  burst  in  on  them  —  a  Peggy  raised,  as  it 
seemed,  to  some  huge  power  of  even  the  normal  Peggy. 
She  carried  a  lean  little  leather  bag. 

"Is  the  cab  there?"  she  cried. 

"All  things  in  their  order.  We  are  here,"  Miles  re- 
minded her,  with  dignity. 

"  We've  no  time  to  lose,"  Peggy  announced.  "  We've 
290 


PURELY    BUSINESS 

two  places  to  go  to,  and  we've  got  to  be  back  here  by 
a  certain  time — and  I  hope  we  shall  bring  somebody 
with  us/' 

"In  the  hansom?"  asked  Arty,  resignedly. 

"  In  two  hansoms — at  least,  you  know  what  I  mean," 
said  Peggy. 

"Isn't  she  a  picture,  Arty?  Dear  me,  I  beg  your 
pardon,  Miss  Ryle.  I  didn't  observe  your  presence. 
What  happens  to  have  painted  you  red  to-day?" 

"I'm  in  a  terrible  fright  about — about  something, 
all  the  same.  Now  come  along.  One  of  you  is  to  get 
on  one  side  of  me  and  the  other  on  the  other;  and  you're 
to  guard  me.  Do  you  see?" 

"Orders,  Arty!"' 

They  ranged  themselves  as  they  were  commanded, 
and  escorted  Peggy  down-stairs. 

"Doesn't  the  hansom  present  a  difficultv?"  asked 
Arty. 

"No.  I  sit  in  the  middle,  leaning  back,  you  sit  on 
each  side,  leaning  forward." 

"Reversing  the  proper  order  of  things,  Miles — " 

"In  order  to  intercept  the  dagger  of  the  assassin, 
Arty.  And  where  to,  General?" 

"  The  London  and  County  Bank,  Trafalgar  Square," 
said  Peggy,  with  an  irrepressible  gurgle. 

"By  the  memory  of  my  mother,  I  swear  it  was  no 
forgery!  'Twas  but  an  unaccustomed  pen,"  mur- 
mured Miles. 

"I  am  equal  to  giving  the  order,"  declared  Arty, 
proudly;  he  gave  it  with  a  flourish. 

"How  soon  are  we  to  have  a  look-in,  Peggy?" 

"Hush!     She's  killed  another  uncle!" 

When  the  world  smiled,  Peggy  Ryle  laughed  aloud. 
It  smiled  to-day. 

"  See  me  as  far  as  the  door  of  the  bank  and  wait  out- 
291 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

side/'  she  commanded,  when  she  recovered  articulate 
gravity. 

Their  external  gloom  deepened;  they  were  enjoying 
themselves  immensely.  Peggy's  orders  were  precise- 
ly executed. 

"Present  it  with  a  firm  countenance/'  Miles  ad- 
vised, as  she  left  them  at  the  entrance.  "  Confidence, 
but  no  bravado!" 

"It  is  no  longer  a  capital  offence,"  said  Arty,  en- 
couragingly. "You  won't  be  hanged  in  silk  knee- 
breeches,  like  Mr.  Fauntleroy." 

Peggy  marched  into  the  bank.  She  opened  the 
lean  little  bag,  and  took  forth  a  slip  of  paper.  This 
she  handed  to  a  remarkably  tall  and  prim  young  man 
behind  the  counter.  He  spoiled  his  own  effect  by 
wearing  spectacles,  but  accuracy  is  essential  in  a 
bank. 

He  looked  at  the  amount  on  the  check ;  then  he  looked 
at  Peggy.  The  combined  effect  seemed  staggering. 
He  took  off  his  spectacles,  wiped  them,  and  replaced 
them  with  an  air  of  meaning  to  see  clearly  this  time. 
He  turned  the  check  over.  "Margaret  Ryle"  met 
him  in  bold  and  decided  characters.  Tradition  came 
to  his  rescue. 

"How  will  you  take  it?"  he  asked. 

Peggy  burst  out  joyously:  "It's  really  all  right, 
then?" 

The  prim  clerk  almost  jumped.  "I  —  I  presume 
so,"  he  stammered,  and  fled  precipitately  from  the 
first  counter  to  the  third. 

Peggy  waited  in  some  anxiety;  old  prepossessions 
were  strong  on  her.  After  all,  to  write  a  check  is  one 
thing,  to  have  it  honored  depends  on  a  variety  of  cir- 
cumstances. 

"Quite  correct,"  said  the  clerk,  returning.     He  was 

292 


PURELY    BUSINESS 

puzzled;  he  hazarded  a  suggestion:  "Do  you — er — 
wish  to  open — ?" 

"Notes,  please,"  said  Peggy. 

He  opened  a  drawer  with  many  compartments. 

"  Hundreds  \"  cried  Peggy,  suddenly.  She  explained 
afterwards  that  she  had  wanted  as  much  "crackle"  as 
the  little  bag  would  hold. 

The  clerk  licked  his  forefinger.  "One — two — three 
—four—" 

"Why  should  he  ever  stop?"  thought  Peggy,  look- 
ing on  with  the  sensation  a  millionaire  might  have  if 
he  could  keep  his  freshness. 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  she  beamed,  with  a  grati- 
tude almost  obtrusive,  as  she  put  the  notes  in  the  bag. 
She  was  aware  that  it  is  not  correct  to  look  surprised 
when  your  friends'  checks  are  honored,  but  she  was 
not  quite  able  to  hold  the  feeling  in  repression. 

Her  body-guard  flung  away  half -consumed  cigar- 
ettes and  resigned  themselves  to  their  duties.  A 
glance  at  the  little  bag  showed  that  it  had  grown 
quite  fat. 

"Be  very,  very  careful  of  me  now,"  ordered  Peggy, 
as  she  stepped  warily  towards  the  hansom. 

"There  are  seventy  thousand  thieves  known  to  the 
police,"  said  Arty. 

"  Which  gives  one  an  idea  of  the  mass  of  undiscov- 
ered crime  in  London,"  added  Miles.  "Now  where 
to,  mon  General?" 

"Number  346  Cadogan  Square,"  Peggy  told  them. 
"  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  could  have  a  cigarette!" 

Both  sympathetically  offered  to  have  one  for  her. 

"The  smoke  will  embarrass  the  assassin's  aim/' 
Miles  opined,  sagely. 

Arty  broke  out  in  a  sudden  discovery. 

"You're  going  to  Pricker's  1"  he  cried. 
293 


THE    INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

"I  have  an  appointment  with  Mr.  Pricker,"  said 
Peggy,  with  pretended  carelessness. 

"At  last,  Arty,  I  shall  see  the  mansions  of  the  gilt." 

"No,  you'll  wait  outside,"  Peggy  informed  him,  with 
a  cruelty  spoiled  by  bubbling  mirth. 

"  Is  that  where  we're  to  pick  up  the  other  passenger?" 
asked  Arty. 

"You  talk  as  if  everything  was  so  very  easyl"  said 
Peggy,  rather  indignantly. 

"Being  anywhere  near  a  bank  always  has  that 
effect  on  me,"  he  apologized. 

"Now,  one  on  each  side — and  be  careful,"  Peggy 
implored  as  the  cab  stopped  in  Cadogan  Square.  "If 
anything  happened  now — 1"  Her  tongue  and  her  im- 
agination failed. 

"If  you've  got  any  money,  you'll  leave  it  there," 
Miles  prophesied,  pointing  at  the  Fricker  door. 

"Shall  I?"  cried  Peggy,  in  joyous  defiance,  as  she 
sprang  from  the  cab. 

"Maj7n't  we  even  sit  in  the  hall?"  wailed  Arty. 

"Wait  outside,"  she  commanded,  with  friendly  curt- 
ness. 

The  door  closed  on  her,  the  butler  and  footman  show- 
ing her  in  with  an  air  of  satisfied  expectancy. 

"Who's  to  pay  the  cab?"  exclaimed  Arty,  smitten 
with  a  sudden  apprehension. 

"  Don't  you  remember  being  reviewed  under  the  head- 
ing of  'The  Young  Ravens'?"  asked  Miles,  a  little  un- 
kindly, but  with  a  tranquil  trust  in  the  future. 

That  answer  might  not  have  satisfied  the  cabman. 
It  closed  the  question  for  Arty  Kane.  They  linked 
arms  and  walked  up  and  down  the  square,  discussing 
Shakespeare's  habit  of  indulging  in  soliloquy.  "  Which 
is  bad  art  but  good  business,"  Miles  pronounced.  Of 
course,  Arty  differed. 

294 


PURELY   BUSINESS 

"The  study,  if  you  please,  miss/'  said  the  butler  to 
Peggy  Ryle.  She  followed  him  across  the  fawn-col- 
ored mat,  which  had  once  proved  itself  to  possess  such 
detective  qualities. 

Rooms  change  their  aspects  as  much  as  faces;  he 
who  looks  brings  to  each  his  own  interpretation,  and 
sees  himself  as  much  as  that  on  which  he  gazes.  The 
study  was  very  different  now  to  Peggy  from  what  it 
had  seemed  on  her  previous  entry.  Very  possibly 
Daniel  experienced  much  the  same  variety  of  estimate 
touching  the  Lions'  Den  before  he  went  in  and  after  he 
came  out. 

Fricker  appeared.  He  had  lunched  abstemiously, 
as  was  his  wont,  but  daintily,  as  was  Mrs.  Pricker's 
business.  He  expected  amusement;  neither  his  heart 
nor  his  digestion  was  likely  to  be  disturbed.  An  ap- 
peal for  pity  from  Peggy  Ryle's  lips  seemed  to  promise 
the  maximum  of  enjoyment  combined  with  the  mini- 
mum of  disturbance  to  business. 

"So  you've  come  back,  Miss  Ryle?"  He  gave  her 
his  lean,  dry,  strong  hand. 

"I  told  you  I  might,"  she  nodded,  as  she  sat  down 
in  her  old  seat,  opposite  his  arm-chair. 

"You've  got  the  money?"  His  tone  was  one  of 
easy,  pleasant  mockery. 

"  It's  no  use  trying  to — to  beat  you  down,  I  suppose?" 
asked  Peggy,  with  an  expression  of  exaggerated  wroe. 

But  he  was  too  sharp  for  her.  He  did  not  fall  into 
her  artless  trap.  He  was  lighting  his  cigar,  but  he 
broke  off  the  operation  (it  was  not  often  that  he  had 
been  known  to  do  that)  and  leaned  across  the  table 
towards  her. 

"My  God,  child,  have  you  got  the  money?"  he  asked 
her,  in  a  sort  of  excitement. 

"Yes,  yes,  yes!"  she  broke  out.  Had  not  that  fact 
295 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF   PEGGY 

been  bottled  up  in  her  for  hours?  His  question  cut  the 
wire.  A  metaphor  derived  from  champagne  is  in  no 
sort  inappropriate. 

"You've  got  it?    Where  have  you  got  it  from?" 

"Your  principle  is  not  to  ask  that,  Mr.  Fricker." 

"He  must  be  very  fond  of  you." 

"You're  utterly  wrong  —  and  rather  vulgar/'  said 
Peggy  Ryle. 

"On  the  table  with  it!"  laughed  Fricker. 

She  threw  the  little  bag  across  the  table.  "  Oh,  and 
have  you  a  cigarette,  Mr.  Fricker?"  she  implored. 

Fricker  gave  a  short  laugh  and  pushed  a  silver  box 
across  to  her.  She  leaned  back  in  an  extraordinary 
perfection  of  pleasure. 

"There  are  a  lot  of  these  notes,"  he  said.  "Are 
checks  out  of  fashion,  Miss  Ryle?" 

"You're  so  suspicious,"  she  retorted.  Apart  from 
difficulties  about  a  banking  account,  she  would  not 
have  missed  handling  the  notes  for  worlds. 

He  counted  them  carefully.  "Correct!"  he  pro- 
nounced. 

"And  here's  your  letter/'  she  cried,  producing  it  from 
her  pocket ;  the  action  was  a  veritable  coup  de  the&tre. 

"Oh,  I  remember  my  letter,"  he  said,  with  a  smile — 
and  a  brow  knit  in  vexation.  Then  he  looked  across 
the  table  at  her.  "I'd  have  bet  ten  to  one  against  it," 
he  remarked. 

"You  underrate  the  odds,"  Peggy  told  him,  in  a  tri- 
umph that  really  invited  Nemesis.  "I'd  have  bet  a 
thousand  to  one  when  I  left  your  house." 

"You're  a  wonderful  girl," said  Fricker.  "How  the 
devil  did  you  do  it?" 

She  grew  sober  for  a  moment.  "I'm  ashamed  of 
how  I  did  it. "  Then  she  burst  out  again,  victoriously, 
"But  I'd  do  it  again,  Mr.  Fricker!" 

296 


PURELY    BUSINESS 

"You  have  all  the  elements  of  greatness,"  said  he, 
with  a  gravity  that  was  affected  and  yet  did  not  seem 
entirely  pretence.  "You've  got  three  thousand  five 
hundred  pounds  out  of  somebody — " 

"I've  got  four  thousand,"  interrupted  Peggy. 

"But  five  hundred  was — " 

"  That's  not  there !  That's  kept  for  me.  That's  the 
most  splendid  part  of  it  all!"  In  that,  indeed,  seemed 
to  her  to  lie  the  finest  proof  of  victory.  The  rest  might 
have  been  shame;  that  her  five  hundred  lay  intact 
meant  change  of  heart.  She  had  not  pressed  her  five 
hundred  on  Airey  Newton.  There  are  times  when 
everything  should  be  taken,  as  there  are  when  all 
should  be  given;  her  instinct  had  told  her  that. 

Fricker  smiled  again;  his  deft  fingers  parted  the 
notes  into  two  uneven  heaps.  The  fingers  seemed  to 
work  of  their  own  accord,  and  to  have  eyes  of  their 
own,  for  his  eyes  did  not  leave  Peggy  Ryle's  face. 

"Is  the  man  in  love  with  you?"  He  could  not  help 
returning  to  that  explanation. 

"Not  a  farthing,  if  he  had  been!"  cried  Peggy. 

"Then  he's  an  old  man  or  a  fool." 

"Why  can't  I  be  angry  with  you?"  she  cried,  in  an 
amused  despair.  "  Are — are  greed  and — nonsense  the 
only  things  you  know?" 

"Are  you  finding  new  words  for  love?"  he  asked, 
with  a  sneer. 

Peggy  laughed.  "That's  really  not  bad,"  she  ad- 
mitted, candidly.  Under  the  circumstances  she  did 
not  grudge  Fricker  a  verbal  victory.  The  poor  man 
was  badly  beaten ;  let  him  have  his  gibe ! 

He  had  made  his  two  heaps  of  notes — a  larger  and  a 
smaller;  his  hand  wavered  undecidedly  over  them. 

"I  can  trust  you  to  do  what  you  said  you  would?" 
she  asked,  suddenly. 

297 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

"No  less — and  no  more.  That's  an  essential  part 
of  my  policy/'  he  assured  her. 

"And  Mrs.  Trevalla  is  free  of  Glowing  Stars?  And 
you'll  tell  her  what  you  promised?" 

"Fll  take  them  over,  with  the  liability.  Yes,  and 
I'll  tell  her." 

He  spoke  rather  absently ;  his  mind  seemed  to  be  on 
something  else.  When  he  spoke  again,  there  was  an 
odd  —  perhaps  an  unprecedented  —  embarrassment  in 
his  manner. 

"I  see  my  way  to  doing  something  with  Glowing 
Stars.  Money  must  go  into  it — the  calls  must  be 
paid — but  I  think  some  of  the  money  might  come  out 
again."  He  looked  at  Peggy;  he  saw  her  gloriously 
triumphant  eyes,  her  cheeks  flushed  with  the  intox- 
ication of  achievement.  The  impulse  was  on  him  to 
exalt  her  more.  "I  should  have  done  very  well  if  I'd 
bargained  with  you  for  three  thousand." 

"It  would  have  seemed  almost  as  impossible.  And 
you  wouldn't!  You  wanted  more  than  market  value 
for  your  pound  of  flesh!" 

He  pushed  the  smaller  of  the  two  heaps  that  he  had 
made  across  to  her  with  a  swift  motion  of  his  hand; 
the  hand  trembled  a  little,  but  his  voice  was  hard  and 
dry. 

"Take  back  the  extra  thousand  and  call  it  square, 
Miss  Ryle,"  said  he. 

Peggy  laid  down  her  cigarette  and  stared  at  the 
heap  of  notes  he  pushed  across  to  her. 

"What?"  she  exclaimed,  in  the  despair  of  blank 
astonishment;  she  could  not  grasp  the  idea. 

"Take  those  back.     I  shall  do  very  well  with  these." 

He  took  up  his  cigar  again,  and  this  time  he  lit  it. 
To  Peggy  the  room  seemed  to  go  round. 

"Why  do  you  do  that?"  she  demanded. 

298 


PURELY    BUSINESS 

"On  my  word,  I  don't  know.  Your  infernal  pluck, 
I  think,"  he  said,  in  a  puzzled  tone. 

"I  won't  have  it.     It  was  a  bargain." 

"It's  not  your  money,  you  may  remember." 

Peggy  had  forgotten  that. 

"It  might  be  a  pleasant  surprise  to — to  your  friend," 
he  went  on.  "  And,  if  you'll  let  me  do  it,  it  will,  Miss 
Ryle,  be  rather  a  pleasant  change  to  me." 

"Why  do  you  do  it?"  she  asked  again. 

He  made  her  an  odd  answer  —  very  odd,  to  come 
from  him.  "Because  of  the  look  in  your  eyes,  my 
dear." 

His  tone  was  free  from  all  offence  now ;  he  spoke  as 
a  father  might.  If  his  words  surprised  her  to  wonder, 
he  had  no  better  understanding  of  hers. 

"You  too,  you  too!"  she  whispered,  and  the  eyes 
that  had  moved  him  grew  misty. 

"Come,  don't  refuse  me,"  he  said.  "Take  it  back 
to  your  friend.  He'll  find  a  use  for  it." 

He  seemed  to  touch  a  spring  in  her,  to  give  her  a 
cue. 

"Yes,  yes!"  she  assented,  eagerly.  "Perhaps  there 
would  be  a  use  for  it.  Do  you  give  it  me?  Freely, 
freely?" 

"Freely,"  answered  Fricker.  "And  all  you  want 
shall  be  said  to  Mrs.  Trevalla." 

Peggy  opened  her  bag  and  began  to  put  the  notes 
in ;  but  she  looked  still  at  Fricker. 

"Did  you  ever  think  of  anything  like  this?"  she 
asked,  in  a  new  burst  of  confidence. 

"No,  I  didn't,"  he  answered,  with  a  brusque  laugh. 

"You  like  doing  it?" 

"Well,  was  there  any  compulsion,  Miss  Ryle?" 

"I  shall  take  it,"  she  said,  "and  I  thank  you  very 
much." 

299 


"I  should  have  been  distressed  if  you  hadn't  taken 
it/'  said  he. 

Peggy  knew  that  he  spoke  truth,  strange  as  the 
truth  might  be.  She  had  an  impulse  to  laugh,  an 
impulse  to  cry.  Pricker's  quiet  face  quelled  both  in 
her. 

"And  that  finishes  our  business,  I  suppose?"  he 
asked. 

"It's  understood  that  you  don't  worry  Trix  any 
more?" 

"Henceforward  Mrs.  Trevalla  ceases  to  exist  for  me." 
He  was  really  quite  in  the  same  tale  with  Mrs.  Bon- 
fill  and  society  at  large. 

His  declaration  seemed  to  amuse  Peggy.  "  Oh,  well, 
that's  putting  it  rather  strongly,  perhaps,"  she  mur- 
mured. 

"Not  a  bit!"  retorted  Fricker,  with  his  confident 
contemptuousness. 

"You  can  never  tell  how  you  may  run  up  against 
people,"  remarked  Peggy,  with  a  mature  sagacity. 

He  leaned  back,  looking  at  her.  "I've  learned  to 
think  that  your  observations  have  a  meaning,  Miss 

Ryle." 

"Yes,"  Peggy  confessed.  "But  I  don't  exactly 
know — "  She  frowned  a  moment,  and  then  smiled, 
with  the  brightness  of  a  new  idea.  "Where's  your 
daughter,  Mr.  Fricker?" 

"Connie's  in  her  room."  He  did  not  add  that,  by 
way  of  keeping  vivid  the  memory  of  moral  lessons,  he 
had  sent  her  there  on  Peggy's  arrival. 

"Do  you  think  she'd  give  me  a  cup  of  tea?" 

It  was  rather  early  for  tea.  "Well,  I  dare  say  she 
would,"  smiled  Fricker.  "I  shall  hear  what's  up 
afterwards?" 

"Yes.,  I'm.  sure  you  will,"  promised  Peggy. 
300 


PURELY   BUSINESS 

He  sent  her  under  escort  to  the  drawing-room,  and 
directed  that  Connie  should  be  told  to  join  her.  Then 
he  returned  to  his  study  and  began  the  letter  which  he 
had  to  write  to  Trix  Trevalla.  He  fulfilled  his  obliga- 
tion loyally,  although  he  had  no  pity  for  Trix  and  was 
sorely  tempted  to  give  her  a  dig  or  two.  He  resisted  this 
temptation  when  he  remembered  that  to  do  what  he 
said  he  would  was  an  essential  part  of  his  policy,  and 
that  if  he  failed  in  it  Peggy  Ryle  would  come  again 
and  want  to  know  the  meaning  of  it ;  at  which  thought 
he  raised  his  brows  and  smiled  in  an  amused  puzzle. 
So  he  told  Trix  that  Glowing  Stars  gave  promise  of  a 
new  development,  and,  though  he  could  not  offer  her 
any  price  for  her  shares,  he  would  take  them  off  her 
hands  for  a  nominal  consideration,  and  hold  her  free 
from  the  liability.  "Thus,"  he  ended,  "closing  all 
accounts  between  us." 

"  She  was  a  fool,  and  my  wife  was  a  fool,  and  I  sup- 
pose I  was  a  fool  too,"  he  mused.  A  broader  view 
came  to  his  comfort.  "A  man's  got  to  be  a  bit  of  a 
fool  in  some  things  if  he  wants  to  live  comfortably  at 
home,"  he  reflected.  He  could  not  expect  the  weaker 
sex  (such  undoubtedly  would  have  been  his  descrip- 
tion) to  rise  to  the  pure  heights  where  he  dwelt,  where 
success  in  business  was  its  own  reward  and  the  vic- 
torious play  of  brains  triumph  enough.  "But,  any- 
how, we  backed  the  wrong  horse  in  Trix  Trevalla,"  he 
had  to  acknowledge,  finally. 

Before  he  had  sealed  the  letter,  Connie  burst  into 
the  room.  Fricker  prepared  to  say  something  severe 
— these  unlicensed  intrusions  were  a  sore  offence. 
But  the  sight  of  his  daughter  stopped  him.  She  was 
dressed  in  the  height  of  smartness ;  she  had  her  hat  on 
and  was  buttoning  her  gloves;  her  cheeks  were  red, 
and  excitement  shone  in  her  eyes.  On  the  whole  it 

301 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

looked  as    though  she  were   clearing   the   decks  for 
action. 

"I'm  going  back  to  tea  with  Miss  Ryle/'  she  an- 
nounced. 

He  rose  and  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fireplace. 

"Well,  she's  a  very  nice  friend  for  you  to  have, 
Connie."  There  was  a  flavor  of  mockery  in  his 
tone. 

"You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  there's  no  question 
of  that.  But  Mrs.  Trevalla's  living  with  her  now." 

"  I  thought  your  mother  and  you  had  agreed  to  drop 
Mrs.  Trevalla?" 

Connie  was  not  in  the  mood  to  notice  or  to  trouble 
about  his  subtly  malicious  sarcasms. 

"I  asked  Beaufort  Chance  to  come  here  to-day," 
she  went  on,  "  and  he  told  me  he  had  to  be  in  the  City 
all  the  afternoon." 

"Aren't  these  things  in  your  mother's  department, 
Connie?" 

"No,  in  yours.  I  want  you  to  back  me  up.  He's 
going  to  tea  at  four  o'clock  at  Miss  Ryle's — to  meet 
Mrs.  Trevalla." 

"Miss  Ryle  told  you  that?  And  she  wants  you  to 
go  with  her?" 

"Yes.     You  see  what  it  means?" 

"Why,  Connie,  you're  looking  quite  dangerous." 

"I'm  going  with  her,"  Connie  announced,  finishing 
off  the  last  glove-button  viciously.  "At  least  I  am  if 
you'll  back  me  up." 

"How?"  he  asked.  He  was  amused  at  her  in  this 
mood,  and  rather  admired  her  too. 

"  Well,  first,  you  must  see  me  through  with  mamma, 
if — if  anything  comes  out  about  what's  been  happen- 
ing. You  know  Beaufort  wouldn't  stick  at  giving  me 
away  if  he  wanted  to  get  even  with  me." 

302 


PURELY    BUSINESS 

"You're  probably  right  as  to  that,"  agreed  Flicker, 
licking  his  cigar. 

"  So  you  must  tell  mamma  that  it  had  your  approval, 
and  not  let  her  be  nasty  to  me.  You  can  manage  that, 
if  you  like,  you  know." 

"  I  dare  say,  I  dare  say.  Is  there  any  other  diver- 
sion for  your  idle  old  father?" 

"  Yes.  You  must  back  me  up  with  Beaufort.  I  be- 
lieve he's  dangling  after  Mrs.  Trevalla  again."  Con- 
nie's eyes  flashed  with  threatenings  of  wrath. 

"On  the  quiet?" 

Connie  nodded  emphatically. 

"Hardly  the  square  thing,"  said  Fricker,  smiling 
in  an  abused  patience. 

"Are  you  going  to  stand  it?  He's  made  fierce  love 
to  me." 

"Yes,  I  know  something  about  that,  Connie.  And 
you're  fond  of  him,  eh?" 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  she  declared,  defiantly.  "  And  I  won't 
let  that  woman  take  him  away  from  me." 

"What  makes  you  think  she'd  have  him?" 

"Oh,  she'd  have  him!  But  I  don't  mean  her  to  get 
the  chance." 

Fricker  liked  spirit  of  all  sorts ;  if  he  had  approved  of 
Peggy's,  he  approved  of  his  daughter's,  too.  More- 
over his  great  principle  was  at  stake  once  more,  and 
must  be  vindicated  again ;  he  must  insist  on  fair  play. 
If  what  Connie  attributed  to  Beaufort  Chance  were 
true,  it  was  by  no  means  fair  play.  His  mind  briefly 
reviewed  how  he  stood  towards  Beaufort;  the  answer 
was  that  Beaufort  hung  on  him,  and  could  not  stand 
alone.  He  had  the  gift  of  seeing  just  how  people  were 
situated;  he  saw  it  better  than  they  did  themselves, 
thanks  to  his  rapid  intuition  and  comprehensive  grasp 
of  business  affairs.  He  had  set  Beaufort  Chance  on 

303 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

horseback — financial  horseback;  if  he  willed,  he  could 
pull  him  down  again;  at  the  least  he  could  make  his 
seat  most  uncomfortable  and  precarious. 

"We  should  be  able  to  manage  him  between  us, 
should  we,  after  the  event  as  well  as  before?" 

"You  help  me  to  manage  him  before — I'll  manage 
him  myself  afterwards/'  said  Connie. 

"Good  girl!  Say  what  you  like.  I'll  back  you  up. 
Bring  him  to  me,  if  need  be." 

Connie  darted  at  him  and  kissed  him.  "Don't  say 
anything  before  Miss  Ryle,"  she  whispered.  "  It's  just 
that  I'm  going  out  to  tea." 

When  they  reached  the  hall,  where  Peggy  was  wait- 
ing in  triumphant  composure,  Connie  Fricker  lived  up 
to  the  spirit  of  this  caution  by  discarding  entirely  her 
aggressive  plainness  of  speech  and  her  combative  air. 
She  minced  with  excessive  gentility  as  she  told  Miss 
Ryle  that  she  was  ready  to  go  with  her;  then  she  flew 
off  to  get  a  gold-headed  parasol.  Peggy  sat  and  smiled 
at  Mr.  Fricker. 

"She's  going  to  have  tea  with  you?"  asked  Fricker. 

"Isn't  it  kind  of  her?"  beamed  Peggy. 

Fricker  respected  diplomacy.  "The  kindness  is  on 
your  side,"  he  replied,  politely ;  but  his  smile  told  Peggy 
all  the  truth.  She  gave  a  laugh  of  amusement  mingled 
with  impatient  anticipation. 

Connie  came  running  back.  "You'll  tell  mamma 
where  I've  gone,  won't  you?"  she  asked,  her  eyes  re- 
minding her  father  of  one-half  of  his  duty.  "  Oh,  and 
possibly  Mr.  Chance  will  be  here  at  dinner."  She 
managed  to  recall  the  other  half. 

Fricker  nodded;  Peggy  rose  with  an  admirable  un- 
consciousness. 

"Hold  your  bag  tight,  Miss  Ryle,"  Fricker  advised, 
with  a  gleam  in  his  eye  as  he  shook  hands. 

304 


PURELY   BUSINESS 

"That's  all  right.  I'm  well  looked  after,"  said 
Peggy,  as  the  servant  opened  the  door. 

Two  hansoms  were  waiting;  in  each  sat  a  young 
man  smoking  a  cigarette.  At  the  sight  of  Pegg3^ 
they  leaped  out;  at  the  sight  of  the  gorgeous  young 
woman  who  accompained  Peggy  they  exchanged  one 
swift  glance  and  threw  away  the  cigarettes.  Intro- 
ductions were  made,  Fricker  standing  and  looking  on, 
the  butler  peering  over  Pricker's  shoulder. 

"What  time  is  it?"  inquired  Peggy. 

"Quarter  to  four,"  said  Arty  Kane. 

"Oh,  we  must  be  quick,  or — or  tea  '11  be  cold!"  She 
turned  to  Miles  Childwick.  "Will  you  go  with  Miss 
Fricker,  Miles?  Arty,  take  me.  Come  along.  Good- 
bye, Mr.  Fricker." 

She  kissed  her  hand  to  Fricker  and  jumped  in;  Arty 
followed.  Miles,  with  a  queer  look  of  fright  on  his 
face,  lifted  his  hat  and  indicated  the  remaining  han- 
som. 

"It's  rather  unconventional,  isn't  it?"  giggled  Con- 
nie, gathering  her  skirts  carefully  away  from  the  wheel. 

"Allow  me,"  begged  Miles,  in  a  sepulchrally  grave 
tone. 

He  saw  her  in  without  damage,  raised  his  hat  again 
to  Fricker,  got  in,  and  sat  down  well  on  the  other  side 
of  the  cab.  He  was  of  opinion  that  Peggy  had  let 
him  in  shamefully. 

"I  hope  it's  a  quiet  horse,  or  I  shall  scream,"  said 
Connie. 

"I  hope  it  is,"  agreed  Miles,  most  heartily.  What 
his  part  would  be  if  she  screamed  he  dared  not  think ; 
he  said  afterwards  that  the  colors  of  her  garments  did 
quite  enough  screaming  on  their  own  account. 

Fricker  watched  them  drive  off  and  then  returned  to 
his  study  thoughtfully.  But  he  was  not  engrossed  in 
*>  305 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

problems  of  finance,  in  the  possibilities  of  Glowing 
Stars,  and  of  minimizing  the  claims  they  would  make. 
He  was  not  even  thinking  of  the  odd  way  things  had 
turned  out  in  regard  to  Trix  Trevalla,  nor  of  how  he 
had  pledged  himself  to  deal  with  Beaufort  Chance. 
The  only  overt  outcome  of  his  meditations  was  the  re- 
mark, addressed  once  again  to  his  study  walls : 

"I'm  not  sure  that  Connie  isn't  a  bit  too  lively  in 
her  dress." 

The  various  influences  which  produced  this  illumi- 
nating doubt  it  would  be  tedious  to  consider.  And 
the  doubt  had  no  practical  result.  He  did  not  venture 
so  much  as  to  mention  it  to  Connie  or  to  Mrs.  Flicker. 


XXI 

THE  WHIP  ON  THE  PEG 

OF  that  drive  with  Connie  Fricker  Miles  Childwick 
had,  in  the  after-time,  many  tales  to  tell.  Truth 
might  claim  the  inspiration,  an  artistic  intellect  per- 
fected them.  "She  said  things  to  which  no  gentle- 
man should  listen  in  a  hansom  cab,  but  the  things 
she  said  were  nothing  to  the  things  she  looked  as  if 
she  was  going  to  say.  In  a  hansom!  No  screen  be- 
tween you  and  a  scrutinizing  public,  Mrs.  John!" 
That  was  the  first  stage.  In  the  second  he  had  invent- 
ed for  poor  Connie  all  the  sayings  which  he  declared 
her  expression  to  suggest.  Whatever  the  exact  facts, 
while  he  forgave  Peggy  Ryle  everything  else,  he  did 
not  cease  to  harbor  malice  on  account  of  that  ride. 
Connie  thought  him  nice  but  rather  slow.  His  must 
be  the  blame,  since  it  is  agreed  that  in  such  cases  the 
man  should  adapt  himself. 

The  work  of  the  body-guard  was  done;  it  was  dis- 
banded with  a  gracious  invitation  to  supper.  Peggy 
flew  up  the  stairs  ahead  of  her  guest.  There  was  a 
great  question  to  be  solved. 

"The  gentleman  has  come,  miss,"  said  the  char- 
woman. 

"And  Mrs.  Trevalla?" 

"I  told  him  Mrs.  Trevalla  would  be  in  directly." 

"And  where  is  she?" 

"She's  still  in  her  room,  I  think,  miss." 
307 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

Peggy  turned  triumphant  eyes  on  her  companion. 
"Now,  then,  Miss  Pricker!"  said  she.  "That's  the 
door!^  I  shall  go  and  keep  Trix  quiet.  That's  the 
door!"  She  pointed  encouragingly,  if  rather  imperi- 
ously, to  the  sitting-room. 

"I'm  not  afraid,"  laughed  Connie,  putting  her  hat 
straight  and  giving  a  rattle  to  her  bangles.  But  there 
was  a  ring  of  agitation  in  her  voice,  and  in  her  heart 
she  half  regretted  the  dismissal  of  the  body-guard. 
Still,  she  had  pluck. 

She  swept  in  with  the  sustaining  consciousness  of  a 
highly  dramatic  entrance.  To  come  in  well  is  often 
half  the  battle. 

"  You  here !     The  devil ! ' '  exclaim  ed  Beaufort  Chance. 

"  Mr.  Chance !  Well,  I  declare ! "  said  Connie.  "  And 
alone,  too!"  She  looked  round  suspiciously,  as  though 
Trix  might  perhaps  be  under  the  table.  "  Well,  I  sup- 
pose Miss  Rj7le  won't  be  long  taking  off  her  things. " 

Beaufort  already  suspected  a  plot,  but,  his  first  sur- 
prise over,  he  would  not  plead  guilty  to  being  an  ob- 
ject that  invited  one. 

"I  got  away  earlier  than  I  expected,"  he  told  her, 
"and  looked  in  here  on  my  way  to  Cadogan  Square. 
There  was  no  chance  of  finding  you  at  home  so  early." 

"And  there  was  a  chance  of  finding  Mrs.  Trevalla?" 
She  sat  down  opposite  him,  showing  her  teeth  in  a 
mocking  smile.  His  confusion  and  the  weakness  of 
his  plea  set  her  courage  firmly  on  its  feet. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  there  was  or  not.  She's  not 
here,  you  see." 

"Oh,  I'll  amuse  you  till  she  comes!" 

"I  sha'n't  wait  for  her  long." 

"  I  sha'n't  stay  long  either.  You  can  drive  me  back 
home,  can't  you?" 

He  was  pitifully  caught,  and  had  not  the  adroitness 
308 


THE    WHIP    ON    THE    PEG 

to  hide  his  sense  of  it.  Perhaps  he  had  been  cruelly 
used.  When  he  had  written  to  Trix,  saying  he  meant 
to  come  again  and  asking  for  a  date,  it  was  hardly 
fair  of  Peggy,  performing  the  office  of  amanuensis  for 
Trix,  to  say  that  Mrs.  Trevalla  saw  few  visitors,  but 
that  this  particular  day  (on  which  Peggy  was  to  visit 
Fricker)  would  be  the  best  chance  of  seeing  her.  Such 
language  might  be  non-committal ;  it  was  undoubtedly 
misleading.  He  had  found  in  it  a  sign  that  Trix  was 
yielding,  coming  to  a  sensible  frame  of  mind,  recog- 
nizing what  seemed  to  him  so  obvious — the  power  he 
had  over  her  and  her  attraction  towards  him.  In  his 
heart  he  believed  that  he  held  both  these  wromen,  Trix 
and  Connie,  in  his  hand,  and  could  do  as  he  liked  with 
them;  thus  he  \vould  cajole  and  conciliate  Connie  (he 
thought  kisses  would  not  lose  their  efficacy,  nor  that 
despotic  air  either)  while  he  made  Trix  his  own — for 
towards  her  lay  his  stronger  inclination.  To  secure 
her  would  be  his  victory  over  all  the  sneerers,  over 
Mervyn,  and — the  greatest  came  last — over  herself. 
But,  however  clever  we  are,  there  is  a  point  at  which 
things  may  fall  out  too  perversely.  If  Connie  came 
by  chance,  this  acme  of  bad  luck  was  reached;  if  by 
design,  then  he  had  miscalculated  somewhere. 

"You're  not  greeting  me  very  enthusiastically," 
remarked  Connie.  "You  don't  sit  stock-still  and  say 
you  won't  stay  long  when  I  come  to  you  in  the  draw- 
ing-room at  home!" 

"Nonsense!     That  girl  may  be  in  any  minute." 

"Well,  and  mamma  might  be  in  any  minute  at 
home  —  which  would  be  much  worse.  After  all,  what 
would  she  matter?  You're  not  ashamed  of  me,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

Assumption  is  a  valuable  device  in  argument;  Con- 
nie was  using  it  skilfully.  She  assumed  that  she  was 

309 


THE   INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

first  in  his  thoughts,  and  did  not  charge  him  with  pre- 
ferring another;  let  him  explain  that — if  he  dared. 

"Nonsense!"  he  repeated,  fretfully.  "But  I  can't 
play  the  fool  now.  I've  come  to  see  Mrs.  Trevalla  on 
business.  Isn't  there  another  room?" 

"No;  and  I  thought  papa  did  all  the  business  there 
was  with  Mrs.  Trevalla." 

He  had  sat  down  near  the  table ;  she  came  and  perched 
herself  on  it.  Intimidation  must  probably  be  the  main 
weapon,  but  she  was  alive  to  the  importance  of  rein- 
forcing it. 

"He  thinks  he  does,"  she  went  on,  significantly. 

"  Oh,  it's  a  small  matter.  It  won't  do  him  any  harm. 
And  I'm  a  free  agent,  I  suppose?" 

"You're  free  enough,  anyhow,  pretty  often,"  Connie 
admitted. 

"You've  never  objected,"  he  snarled,  his  temper  get- 
ting out  of  hand. 

"Well,  no.     I  knew  I  had  to  do  with  a  gentleman." 

Kisses  might  be  out  of  place,  even  dangerous,  in 
view  of  a  possible  interruption;  but  there  was  the  des- 
potic air.  Now  seemed  the  minute  for  it. 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,  child,"  he  said.  "If  Fve 
treated  you  kindly,  it  doesn't  entitle  you  to  take  that 
tone.  And  get  off  that  table." 

"Fm  very  comfortable  here,"  remarked  Connie. 

"It  doesn't  look  respectable." 

"What,  not  with  you  and  me?  There's  nobody 
here,  is  there?" 

"Stop  playing  the  fool,"  he  commanded,  brusquely. 
"What's  the  matter  with  you  to-day?" 

"  I'm  in  ripping  spirits  to-day,  Beaufort.  Can't  you 
guess  why?" 

"  I  don't  believe  you  came  here  to  see  Peggy  Ryle  at 
all,"  he  broke  out. 

310 


THE    WHIP    ON    THE    PEG 

"Never  mind  why  I  came  here." 

"  Have  you  got  an  idea  that  you've  done  something 
clever?" 

"Never  mind.     I've  awfully  good  news,  Beaufort." 

"They  may  be  listening  at  the  door."  His  uneasi- 
ness was  pitiful. 

"  It  wouldn't  matter.  Everybody  '11  know  soon/'  said 
Connie,  consolingly. 

"  What  the  deuce  are  you  talking  about?"  he  growled. 

She  bent  forward  towards  him  with  a  striking,  if 
rather  over-done,  air  of  joyous  confusion. 

"I've  spoken  to  papa,  Beaufort,"  she  whispered. 

Startled  out  of  pretence,  he  sprang  to  his  feet  with  an 
oath.  His  look  was  very  ugly ;  he  glared  threateningly. 
Connie  braced  her  courage  and  did  not  quail. 

"I  know  I  ought  to  have  asked  you,"  she  admitted, 
with  a  smile  that  belied  her  professed  penitence,  "but 
I  caught  him  in  such  a  beautiful  humor  that  I  had  to 
take  advantage  of  it.  So  I  told  him  everything.  I 
just  confessed  everything,  Beaufort!  Of  course  he 
scolded  me — it  hasn't  been  quite  right,  has  it? — but 
he  was  very  kind.  He  said  that,  since  we  were  en- 
gaged, he'd  forgive  me  and  make  mamma  forgive  me 
too."  She  paused  before  her  climax.  "I  think  that 
he's  really  simply  awfully  pleased." 

"You  told  your  father  that  you're  engaged  to  me? 
You  know  it's  a  damned  lie." 

Connie's  eyes  gleamed  dangerously,  but  she  kept 
admirably  cool. 

"Well,  I  told  him  that  you'd  said  you  loved  me,  and 
that  you  always  kissed  me  when  we  were  alone  and 
called  me  your  little  Connie,  and  so  on,  you  know. 
And  papa  said  that  he  presumed  from  all  that  that  we 
were  engaged." 

"Well?"  he  muttered,  savagely. 


THE    INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

"And  I  said  that  of  course  I  presumed  so  too." 

It  was  spoken  with  the  innocence  of  the  dove,  but  it 
put  Beaufort  Chance  in  a  very  awkward  position;  the 
reference  is  not  to  his  sensibilities,  but  to  his  tactics. 
Connie's  dexterity  forced  him  to  a  broad  alternative — 
submission  or  open  war.  She  deprived  him  of  any 
half-way  house,  any  compromise  by  which  cajolery 
and  kisses  would  serve  in  place  of  a  promise  and  an 
obligation.  She  did  not  leave  the  matter  there;  she 
jumped  down  from  the  table  and  put  her  arm  on  his 
shoulder  —  indeed,  half-way  round  his  neck.  "You 
must  have  meant  me  to ;  and  it  made  me  so  happy  to — 
to  feel  that  I  was  yours,  Beaufort." 

To  this  pass  his  shifty  dealings  had  brought  him, 
even  as  in  public  affairs  they  had  forbidden  him  a 
career,  and  in  business  had  condemned  him  to  a  sort  of 
outlawry,  although  an  outlawry  tempered  by  riches. 
He  was  in  an  extremity;  his  chance  of  Trix  was  at 
stake,  his  dominion  over  Connie  herself  was  challenged. 
He  saw  the  broad  alternative,  and  he  chose  open  war. 

"It's  all  a  very  pretty  trick  of  yours,  my  dear,"  he 
sneered,  throwing  her  arm  off  him  none  too  gently; 
"but  a  man  doesn't  marry  every  girl  he  kisses,  espe- 
cially not  when  she's  so  ready  to  be  kissed  as  some 
people. we  know.  You  can  explain  it  to  your  father 
any  way  you  like,  but  you're  not  going  to  bluff  me." 

"I  see  why  you  came  here  now,"  said  Connie,  coolly. 
"  You  came  to  make  love  to  Trix  Trevalla.  Well,  you 
can't,  that's  all." 

"That's  for  Mrs.  Trevalla  to  say,  not  for  you." 

"I  don't  expect  Mrs.  Trevalla  '11  show  up  at  all," 
remarked  Connie,  leaning  against  the  table  again. 

"That's  the  little  plan,  is  it?"  He  gave  a  jerk  of 
his  head.  "By  Jove,  I  see!  That  hussy  of  a  Ryle 
girl's  in  it!" 

312 


THE    WHIP    ON    THE    PEG 

"  I  don't  know  who's  in  it;  you  seem  rather  out  of  it/' 
smiled  Connie. 

"I  am,  am  I?  We'll  see.  So  Mrs.  Trevalla  won't 
show,  won't  she?  That's  hardly  final,  is  it?  She's 
on  the  premises,  I  rather  fancy." 

"Going  to  force  your  way  into  her  bedroom?  Oh, 
Beaufort!" 

"You'd  be  mightily  shocked,  wouldn't  you?"  He 
moved  towards  the  door;  his  purpose  was  only  half 
formed,  but  he  wished  her  to  think  it  was  absolute. 

"  I  don't  mind,  but  I'm  sure  papa  and  mamma  would. 
I  don't  think  they'd  like  you  for  a  son-in-law  after 
that." 

"Then  we  should  all  be  pleased." 

"Or  perhaps  for  a  partner  either." 

He  turned  round  sharply,  and  came  back  a  step  or 
two  towards  her. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  he  asked,  slowly. 

"  I  don't  suppose  papa  would  care  to  have  anything 
to  do  with  a  man  who  trifled  with  his  daughter's  af- 
fections." Connie  stuck  loyally  to  the  old  phrases. 

He  was  full  in  front  of  her  now  and  looking  hard  at 
her. 

"You  little  devil!  I  believe  you've  squared  him/' 
said  he. 

Connie,  well  on  the  table  again,  put  her  arms  akimbo, 
stuck  her  legs  out  in  front  of  her  straight  from  the  knee, 
and  laughed  in  his  face. 

"If  you're  going  into  Mrs.  Trevalla's  room,  you 
might  ask  her  if,  from  her  experience,  she  thinks  it 
wise  to  quarrel  with  papa." 

"I'm  not  a  woman  and  a  fool." 

"Oh,  you  know  your  own  business  best,  Beaufort  1" 

It  was  sorely  against  the  grain,  but  he  shirked  his 
open  war ;  he  tried  coaxing. 

313 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

"Come,  be  reasonable,  Connie.  You're  a  sensible 
girl.  I  mean  all  that's  square,  but — " 

"  I  mean  that  if  you  wait  here  after  I've  gone,  or  go 
now  and  see  Trix  Trevalla,  I'll  never  speak  to  you 
again.  And  papa —  Well,  as  I  say,  you  know  your 
own  business  best  about  that." 

Her  cool  certainty,  her  concentration  on  one  purpose, 
gave  her  all  the  advantage  over  him  with  his  divided 
counsels,  his  inconsistent  desires,  his  efforts  to  hedge. 
Again  she  pinned  him  to  a  choice. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  asked,  curtly. 

"I  want  you  to  take  me  home  to  Cadogan  Square." 
That  was  hard  and  business-like,  and  bore  for  him  all 
the  significance  that  she  meant  to  put  into  it.  Then 
her  voice  grew  lower  and  her  large  eyes  turned  on  him 
with  a  different  expression.  "We  can  have  a  really 
friendly  talk  about  it  there."  She  meant  to  beat  him, 
but  she  was  highly  content  to  soften  the  submission  by 
all  means  in  her  power.  She  would  not  hesitate  about 
begging  his  forgiveness,  provided  the  spoils  of  victory 
were  hers — in  the  fashion  of  some  turbulent  vassal 
after  defying  his  feeble  overlord. 

Beaufort  read  it  all  well  enough.  He  saw  that  she 
liked  him  and  was  ready  to  be  pleasant;  his  dream 
of  mastery  vanished  from  before  his  eyes.  He  might 
have  broken  Trix  Trevalla's  proud  but  sensitive  spirit  ; 
Miss  Connie's  pliant  pride  and  unpliant  purposes  were 
quite  different  things  to  deal  with.  He  knew  that  in 
effect,  whatever  the  forms  were,  he  submitted  if  he  took 
her  to  Cadogan  Square.  Henceforward  his  lot  was 
with  the  Prickers — and  not  as  their  master  either. 

The  truth  came  home  to  him  with  cutting  bitterness. 
He  had  been  able  to  say  to  himself  that  he  might  use 
Fricker,  but  that  he  was  very  different  from  Fricker; 
that  he  flirted  with  Connie,  but  that  his  wife  would 

314 


THE   WHIP   ON    THE    PEG 

have  to  be  very  different  from  her.  He  had  to  give  up, 
too,  all  thought  of  Trix  Trevalla.  Or  he  must  face 
the  alternative  and  be  at  war  with  Fricker.  Had  he 
the  courage?  Had  he  the  strength?  He  stood  look- 
ing gloomily  at  Connie. 

"You're  a  fool,  Beaufort/'  she  told  him,  plainly, 
with  a  glittering  smile.  "I'm  sure  you  seemed  fond 
enough  of  me.  Why  shouldn't  we  be  very  jolly?  You 
think  I'm  nasty  now,  but  I'm  not  generally,  am  I?" 
She  coaxed  him  with  the  look  that  she  would  have 
said  was  her  most  "fetching."  To  do  her  justice,  a 
more  expressive  word  for  the  particular  variety  of 
glance  is  hard  to  find. 

At  this  moment  Peggy  Ryle  came  out  of  Trix's 
room  (where  she  had  beguiled  the  time  in  idle  conver- 
sation), shut  the  door  carefully  behind  her,  crossed 
the  passage,  and  entered  the  sitting-room.  The  time 
Connie  had  estimated  as  sufficient  for  the  interview 
had  elapsed. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Chance,  I'm  sorry!  Trix  has  such  a.  head- 
ache that  she  can't  come  in.  She  has  tried,  but  stand- 
ing up  or  moving — "  Peggy  threw  out  her  hands  in 
an  expressive  gesture.  "That's  what  kept  me,"  she 
added,  apologetically,  to  Connie.  "I  hope  you've 
amused  each  other  all  this  time?" 

The  plot  was  plain  now;  the  bulk  of  Beaufort's  re- 
sentment turned  on  Peggy.  What  was  the  use  of 
that?  Peggy  had  no  fear  of  him.  She  was  radiantly 
invulnerable. 

"  I'm  sorry  she's  so  seedy. "  He  hesitated ;  he  longed 
to  see  Trix,  even  if  it  were  no  more  than  to  see  her 
and  to  give  her  a  parting  blow.  "  Perhaps  you'll  let 
me  send  a  note  in,  to  say  what  my  business  is?  It's 
pressing,  and  she  might  make  an  effort  to  see  me 
for—" 

315 


THE    INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

"I'm  afraid  I  must  go,"  Connie  interrupted.  "I 
promised  to  be  home." 

"Must  you,  really?     I  suppose  the  cab's  waiting." 

"You  mustn't  bother  poor  Mrs.  Trevalla  with  busi- 
ness now — must  he,  Miss  Ryle?  It  must  wait  for  an- 
other day.  You  were  coming  to  Cadogan  Square, 
weren't  you?  I'll  take  you  with  me." 

He  looked  from  one  to  the  other.  Never  was  man 
in  a  more  hopeless  corner.  Nothing  would  have  pleased 
him  so  much  as  to  knock  their  heads  together.  Con- 
nie was  imitating  Peggy's  external  unconsciousness 
of  anything  remarkable  in  the  situation  as  well  as  she 
could. 

"We  mustn't  stay.  Mrs.  Trevalla  must  want  you," 
pursued  Connie. 

"Oh,  I  can  leave  her  for  just  a  few  minutes,"  Peggy 
assured  her,  with  an  anxious  look  at  the  clock. 

"Good-bye,  Miss  Ryle,"  said  Connie,  giving  Peggy's 
hand  a  hearty  squeeze.  She  passed  on  towards  the 
door  and  opened  it.  Holding  it  ajar,  she  looked  round 
and  waited  for  Beaufort  Chance.  For  an  instant  he 
stood  where  he  was.  The  idea  of  rebellion  was  still  in 
him.  But  his  spirit  failed.  He  came  up  to  Peggy 
and  sullenly  bade  her  farewell. 

"Good-bye,"  said  Peggy,  in  a  low  voice.  Its  tone 
struck  him  as  odd ;  when  he  looked  in  her  eyes  he  saw 
a  touch  of  compassion.  It  flashed  across  him  that 
she  understood  \vhat  he  was  feeling,  that  she  saw  how 
his  acts  had  brought  him  lower  than  his  nature  need 
have  been  brought — or  at  least  that  she  was  sorry  that 
this  fate,  and  nothing  less  than  this,  must  be  held  to 
be  justice. 

At  all  times  let  the  proprieties  be  sacred! 

"Good-bye,  Miss  Ryle.  My  regrets  to  Mrs.  Tre- 
valla. I  hope  for  another  opportunity  Now  I'm 

316 


THE   WHIP   ON    THE    PEG 

ready,  Miss  Flicker,  and  most  delighted  to  have  the 
chance." 

That  is,  let  them  be  observed  in  the  presence  of  third 
parties — especially  if  those  parties  have  brought  us  to 
humiliation.  They  are  not  so  exacting  in  a  vehicle 
that  holds  only  two. 

"Your  turn  to-day,  mine  some  other  day,  Connie," 
said  Beaufort  Chance,  as  he  sullenly  settled  himself 
in  the  cab. 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  bosh,  and  don't  sulk.  You've  found 
out  that  I'm  not  a  fool.  Is  there  any  harm  in  that?" 
She  turned  to  him  briskly.  "  There  are  just  two  ways 
of  taking  this,"  she  told  him.  "One  is  to  be  bullied 
into  it  by  papa.  The  other  is  to  do  it  pleasantly.  Since 
there's  no  way  not  to  do  it,  which  of  those  two  do  you 
think  best?" 

"Did  you  mean  it  all  the  time?"  he  asked,  sullen 
still,  but  curious. 

"As  soon  as  I  began  to  be  really  gone  on  you,"  she 
answered  him.  The  phrase  is  not  classical,  but  she 
used  it,  and  used  it  with  a  very  clear  purpose.  "  You 
don't  suppose  I  like  being  —  being  disagreeable,  and 
seeming  to  have — to  have  to  force  you  to  what  you'd 
always  let  me  understand  you  wanted.  A  girl  has 
some  self-respect,  Beaufort." 

"Some  girls  have  got  a  deuced  good  set  of  brains, 
anyhow,"  he  said,  feeling  for  her  some  of  the  admira- 
tion that  her  father's  clear  purposes  and  resolute  pur- 
suit of  them  always  claimed  for  him. 

"Do  you  suppose  (Connie's  face  looked  out  of  the 
other  side  of  the  cab)  that  if  I  hadn't  been  awfully  fond 
of  you — " 

He  believed  her,  which  was  not  strange;  what  she 
said  was  near  enough  to  the  truth  to  be  rather  strange. 
Yet  it  was  not  incongruous  in  her.  And  she  seized  a 

317 


THE    INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

good  moment  for  confessing  it.  If  he  would  choose 
the  pleasant  way  of  accepting  the  inevitable,  it  should 
be  made  very  pleasant  to  him.  Nor  was  she  indiffer- 
ent as  to  which  way  he  chose.  She  had  her  father  in 
reserve,  and  would  invoke  his  help  if  need  be ;  but  she 
hated  to  think  of  his  smile  while  he  gave  it.  Suddenly, 
under  the  board  of  the  cab,  she  put  her  hand  into  Beau- 
fort Chance's  and  gave  his  a  squeeze. 

He  surrendered;  but  he  kept  up  a  little  bit  of  pre- 
tence to  the  last.  Connie  let  him  keep  it  up,  and  hu- 
mored him  in  it. 

"All  right.  But  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think  of  your 
little  game  when  we're  alone  together!" 

"Oh,  I  say,  you  frighten  me!"  cried  Connie,  tact- 
fully. "  You  won't  be  cruel,  will  you,  Beaufort,  dear?" 

She  would  have  made  an  excellent  Mayor  of  the 
Palace  to  a  blustering  but  easily  managed  king. 

He  had  chosen  the  pleasant  way,  and  verily  all  things 
were  made  pleasant  to  him.  Mrs.  Fricker  was  archly 
maternal.  A  mother's  greeting  for  him,  an  indulgent 
mother's  forgiveness  for  Connie's  secrecy.  No  more 
than  a  ponderously  playful  "Naughty  child!"  redeem- 
ed in  an  instant  by,  "  But  we  could  always  trust  her!" 
Not  thus  always  Mrs.  Fricker  towards  Connie  and  her 
diversions,  as  Connie's  anxiety  in  the  past  well  testified. 
But  there,  an  engagement  in  the  end  does  make  a  dif- 
ference— if  it  is  a  desirable  one.  It  would  seem  dan- 
gerous to  divorce  morality  and  prudence,  since  the 
apostles  of  each  have  ever  been  supremely  anxious  to 
prove  that  it  coincided  with,  if  it  did  not  even  include, 
the  other;  let  us  hope  that  they  seek  rather  to  excuse 
their  opponents  than  to  fortify  themselves. 

Fricker,  too,  was  benevolent;  he  hinted  at  millions; 
he  gave  Beaufort  to  understand  that  while  a  partner 
or  associate  was  one  thing,  a  member  of  the  family 


THE    WHIP    ON    THE    PEG 

would  be  quite  another;  crumbs  from  the  rich  man's 
table  compared  with  "All  that  I  have  is  thine"  was 
about  the  difference.  It  is  true  that  Fricker  smiled 
here  and  there,  and  just  at  first  had  seemed  to  telegraph 
something  to  his  daughter's  wide-awake  eyes,  and  to 
receive  a  reply  that  increased  his  cordiality.  What 
of  that?  Who  cares  for  a  whip  if  it  is  to  be  left  hang- 
ing on  the  peg?  It  is  at  worst  a  hint  which  any  wise 
and  well-bred  slave  will  notice  but  ignore.  Not  a  re- 
minder of  it  came  from  Fricker,  unless  in  a  certain  far- 
away reflectiveness  of  smile.  He  had  spent  an  hour 
that  day  in  the  task  of  finding  out  how  entirely  he  held 
Beaufort  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  The  time  was  not 
wasted — besides,  it  was  a  recreation.  But  he  did  not 
wish  to  have  to  shut  his  fist  and  squeeze ;  he  preferred 
at  all  times  that  things  should  go  pleasantly,  and  his 
favorite  moral  lessons  be  inculcated  by  the  mild  uses 
of  persuasion.  "Now  you're  one  of  us,"  he  told  Beau- 
fort, grasping  his  hand.  Well,  possibly  he  glanced 
at  the  whip  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  when  he  was 
saying  that. 

And  Connie  herself?  She  was  the  finest  diplomatist 
of  the  three,  for  her  heart  was  in  the  work.  So  much 
falsehood  comes  from  no  cause  as  from  labelling  human 
folk  with  a  single  ticket ;  a  bundle  of  them  might  have 
been  adequate  to  Connie.  The  time  came  which  Beau- 
fort had  threatened — when  they  were  alone  as  an  af- 
fianced pair.  The  thing  was  done ;  she  had  spared  no 
roughness  in  doing  it.  Now  she  set  herself  to  make 
him  content ;  nor  did  she  force  him  to  retract  his  threats. 
Her  own  mind  was  divided  as  to  their  relations.  When 
it  came  to  the  point  of  a  clash  of  wills  (to  use  a  phrase 
consecrated  by  criticism),  she  found  always  that  she 
wished  hers  to  prevail;  in  lighter  questions  she  was 
primitive  enough  to  cherish  the  ideal  of  herself  as  a 

319 


THE   INTRUSIONS    OF    PEGGY 

willing  slave.  If  Beaufort  had  not  been  able  to  raise 
that  illusion  in  her  from  time  to  time,  she  would  not 
have  liked  him  so  much,  nor  gone  to  such  lengths  to 
prove  her  own  ultimate  mastery.  Almost  persuading 
herself,  she  almost  persuaded  him;  and  in  this  effort 
she  became  pleasant  to  him  again.  Thus  she  com- 
promised between  her  woman's  temperament  and  her 
masculine  will.  If  he  would  accept  the  compromise 
as  a  permanent  basis,  their  union  promised  to  go  very 
smoothly. 

"  If  you'd  been  like  this,"  he  told  her,  "  there  wouldn't 
have  been  any  trouble  this  afternoon." 

She  endorsed  the  monstrous  falsehood  readily. 

"  No,  it  was  all  my  fault.  But  I  was — so  terrified  of 
losing  you." 

"You  tried  to  threaten  me  into  it!" 

He  could  not  be  so  deluded  as  to  doubt  what  she  had 
done.  But  he  wanted  the  forlorn  comfort  of  a  brave 
face  over  a  beaten  heart. 

"You  threatened  me,  too,"  whispered  Connie. 

She  broke  away  from  him  and  took  up  her  old  jaunty 
attitude — arm  on  the  mantel-piece,  foot  on  the  fender 
again;  there  was  challenge  in  the  eyes  that  met  his 
boldly. 

"You  did  want  some  persuading,"  she  reminded 
him. 

He  laughed.  "  Well,  Trix  Trevalla's  a  devilish  pret- 
ty woman — and  a  bit  easier  to  hold  than  you." 

"  I'm  easy  enough,  if  your  hand  s  light.  As  for  her, 
she'd  have  worried  you  to  death.  She'd  have  hated 
you,  Beaufort." 

He  did  not  like  that,  and  showed  it. 

"And  I — don't!"  Connie  went  on,  with  a  dazzling 
smile.  "  Well,  you're  staring  at  me.  How  do  I 
look?" 

320 


THE    WHIP   ON    THE   PEG 

So  she  played  her  fish,  with  just  enough  hint  of  her 
power,  with  just  enough  submission  to  the  legitimate 
sway  she  invited  him  to  exercise.  It  was  all  very  dex- 
terous; there  was  probably  no  other  road  to  her  end. 
If  it  seems  in  some  ways  not  attractive — well,  we  must 
use  the  weapons  we  have  or  be  content  to  go  to  the 
wall.  When  she  bade  him  good -night  —  still  Mrs. 
Fricker  was  strong  on  reputable  hours,  and  Connie 
herself  assumed  a  new  touch  of  scrupulousness  (she 
was  a  free-lance  no  more) — his  embrace  did  not  lack 
ardor.  She  disengaged  herself  from  his  arms  with  a 
victorious  laugh. 

Her  mother  waited  for  her,  vigilant  but  approving — 
just  a  little  anxious,  too. 

"Well   Connie,  is  he  very  happy?" 

"It's  all  right,  mamma."  Her  assurance  was  jovi- 
ally impudent.  "I  can  do  just  what  I  like  with  him!" 

"  Youll  have  a  job  sometimes,"  opined  Mrs.  Fricker. 

"That's  half  the  fun."  She  thought  a  moment, 
and  then  spoke  with  a  startling  candor — with  an  un- 
ceremoniousness which  Mrs.  Fricker  would  have  re- 
proved twenty-four  hours  earlier.  "I'm  very  fond  of 
him,"  she  said,  "but  Beaufort's  a  funk  in  the  end, 
you  know."  She  swung  herself  off  to  bed,  singing  a 
song.  Her  title  to  triumph  is  not  to  be  denied.  Peggy 
Ryle  had  furnished  the  opportunity,  but  the  use  of  it 
had  been  all  her  own.  A  natural  exultation  may  ex- 
cuse the  exclamation  with  which  she  jumped  into 
bed: 

"I  knew  Mrs.  Trevalla  wouldn't  be  in  it  if  I  got  a 
fair  showl" 

Beaufort  Chance  stayed  awhile  alone  in  the  draw- 
ing-room before  he  went  down  to  join  Fricker  over  a 
cigar.  He  had  enjoyed  Connie's  company  that  night  ; 
the  truth  stood  out  undeniable.  She  had  made  him 
»•  321 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

forget  what  her  company  meant  and  would  cost — nay 
more,  what  it  would  bring  him  in  worldly  gain.  She 
had  made  him  forget,  or  cease  to  wish  for,  Trix  Tre- 
valla.  She  had  banished  the  thought  of  what  he  had 
been  and  once  had  hoped  to  be.  If  she  could  do  that 
for  him,  would  he  be  unhappy?  For  a  moment  he 
almost  prayed  to  be  always  unhappy  in  the  thing  that 
he  was  now  set  to  do.  For  after  an  hour  of  blindness 
there  came,  as  often,  an  hour  of  illumination  almost 
unnatural.  In  the  light  of  it  he  saw  one  of  the  worst 
things  that  a  man  can  see.  Enough  of  his  old  self 
and  of  his  old  traditions  remained  to  make  his  eyes 
capable  of  the  vision.  He  knew  that  the  worst  in  him 
had  been  pleased;  he  saw  that  to  please  the  worst  in 
him  threatened  now  to  become  enough.  His  record 
was  not  very  good,  but  had  he  deserved  this?  It  is 
useless  to  impugn  the  way  of  things.  The  knowledge 
came  to  him  that,  as  he  had  more  and  more  sought  the 
low  and  not  the  high,  so  more  and  more  the  low  had 
become  sufficient  to  him.  The  knowledge  was  very 
bitter;  but  with  a  startled  horror  he  anticipated  the 
time  when  he  would  lose  it.  He  had  lost  so  much — 
public  honor,  private  scruples,  delicacy  of  taste.  He 
had  set  out  with  at  least  a  respect  for  these  things 
and  that  share  in  them  which  the  manner  of  his  life 
and  the  standard  of  his  associates  imparted  to  him. 
They  were  all  gone.  He  was  degraded.  He  knew 
that  now,  and  he  feared  that  even  the  consciousness 
of  it  would  soon  die. 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  In  such  cases  there  is 
none,  unless  a  man  will  forsake  all  and  go  naked  into 
the  wilderness.  To  such  a  violent  remedy  he  was  un- 
equal. It  did  not  need  Fricker's  smooth  assumption 
that  all  was  settled  to  tell  him  that  all  was  settled  in- 
deed. It  did  not  need  Fricker's  welcome  to  the  bosom 

322 


THE    WHIP   ON    THE    PEG 

of  his  family  to  tell  him  that  of  his  family  he  would 
now  be.  Pricker's  eulogy  of  his  daughter  was  unneces- 
sary, since  soon  to  Beaufort  too  she  would  seem  a  meet 
subject  for  unstinted  praise. 

Yet  Fricker  did  not  lack  some  insight  into  his 
thoughts. 

"I  dare  say,  old  fellow/'  he  remarked,  warming  his 
back  before  the  fire — which  he  liked  at  nights,  what- 
ever the  season  of  the  year — "that  this  isn't  quite 
what  you  expected  when  you  began  life,  but,  depend 
upon  it,  it's  very  good  business.  After  all,  we  very 
few  of  us  get  what  we  think  we  shall  when  we  set  up 
in  the  thing.  Here  am  I — and,  by  Jove,  I  started  life 
secretary  to  a  Diocesan  Benevolent  Fund,  and  want- 
ing to  marry  the  Archdeacon's  daughter!  Here  are 
you — well,  we  know  all  about  you,  Beaufort,  my  boy! 
Old  Mervyn  hasn't  quite  done  the  course  he  set  out  to 
do.  Where's  our  friend  Mrs.  Trevalla?  What's  go- 
ing to  happen  to  pretty  Peggy  Ryle?"  He  dropped 
his  coat-tails  and  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Between 
you  and  me,  and  not  for  the  ladies,  we  take  what  we 
can  get  and  try  to  be  thankful.  It's  a  queer  busi- 
ness, but  you  haven't  drawn  such  a  bad  ticket  after 
all." 

Beaufort  Chance  took  a  long  pull  of  whiskey-and- 
soda.  The  last  idea  of  violent  rebellion  was  gone. 
Under  the  easy  tones,  the  comfortably  pessimistic 
doctrine  (there  is  much  and  peculiar  comfort  in  doc- 
trine of  that  color),  proceeding  from  the  suave  and 
well-warmed  preacher  on  the  hearth-rug,  there  lay  a 
polite  intimation  of  the  inevitable.  If  Fate  and  the 
Frickers  seemed  to  mingle  and  become  indistinct  in 
conception,  why,  so  they  did  in  fact.  Whose  was 
the  whip  on  the  peg — Fate's  or  Flicker's?  And  who 
gives  either  Fate  or  Fricker  power?  Whatever  the 

323 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

answer  to  these  questions,  Beaufort  Chance  had  no 
mind  that  the  whip  should  be  taken  down. 

"I've  nothing  to  complain  of/'  said  he,  and  drank 
again. 

Fricker  watched  the  gulps  with  a  fatherly  smile. 


XXII 

THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  IT 

"AND  I  think  that's  an  end  of  any  worry  about 
jf~\  Beaufort  Chance!" 

It  was  a  heartlessly  external  way  of  regarding  a  fel- 
low-creature's fate,  but  in  relating  how  Connie  Fricker 
had  carried  off  her  prisoner,  and  how  subsequent  de- 
spatches had  confirmed  his  unconditional  submis- 
sion, Peggy  had  dealt  with  the  narrative  in  a  comedy 
vein  throughout.  Though  she  showed  no  gratitude 
to  Beaufort,  she  owed  him  some  as  a  conversational 
resource  if  in  no  other  capacity;  he  enabled  her  to 
carry  off  the  opening  of  her  interview  with  Airey  in 
that  spirit  of  sturdy  unemotionality  which  she  desired 
— and  was  rather  doubtful  of  maintaining.  Coincid- 
ing in  her  wish  and  appreciating  the  device,  Airey  had 
listened  with  an  applauding  smile. 

Peggy  now  made  cautious  approaches  to  more  diffi- 
cult ground. 

"So  he's  off  Trix's  mind,"  she  concluded,  sighing 
with  relief.  "  And  the  other  thing's  off  her  mind,  too. 
She's  heard  from  Mr.  Fricker." 

"Ah!"  Airey,  who  had  been  walking  about,  turned 
short  round  on  her  and  waited. 

"Yes,  she  believes  it  all.  He  did  it  very  well.  As 
far  as  I'm  concerned  he's  behaved  most  honorably." 
Peggy  had  the  air  of  giving  a  handsome  testimonial. 
"  She  asked  me  no  questions ;  she  never  thought  I  had 

325 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

anything  to  do  with  it;  she  just  flew  at  me  with  the 
letter.  You  can't  think  what  a  difference  it  makes! 
She  holds  up  her  head  again." 

"Is  it  quite  fair?"  he  asked,  doubtfully. 

"Yes,  yes,  for  the  present,"  Peggy  insisted.  "Per- 
haps she  might  be  told  some  day."  She  looked  at 
him  significantly. 

"Some  day?     How  do  you  mean?" 

"When  she  can  bear  it."  Peggy  grew  embarrassed 
as  the  ground  became  more  difficult.  "If  ever  other 
things  made  her  feel  that  what  had  happened  didn't 
matter,  that  now  at  all  events  people  valued  her,  or — 
or  that  she'd  rather  owe  it  to  somebody  else  than  to 
herself  or  her  own  luck." 

He  did  not  mistake  her  meaning,  but  his  face  was 
still  clouded;  hesitation  and  struggle  hung  about  him 
still.  Neither  by  word  nor  in  writing  had  Peggy  ever 
thanked  him  for  what  he  had  done ;  since  she  had  kissed 
his  hand  and  left  him,  nothing  had  passed  between 
them  till  to-day.  She  guessed  his  mind;  he  had  done 
what  she  asked,  but  he  was  still  miserable.  His  misery 
perhaps  made  the  act  more  splendid,  but  it  left  the  future 
still  in  shade.  How  could  the  shade  be  taken  away? 

She  gathered  her  courage  and  faced  the  perilous 
advance. 

"You'll  have  observed,"  she  said,  \vith  a  nervous 
laugh,  "  that  I  didn't  exactly  press  my — my  contribu- 
tion on  you.  I — I  rather  want  it,  Airey." 

"I  suppose  you  do.  But  that's  not  your  reason — 
and  it  wasn't  mine,"  he  answered. 

"Is  it  there  still?"  She  pointed  to  the  safe.  He 
nodded.  "Take  it  out  and  give  it  to  me.  No,  give 
me  just — just  twenty-five." 

"You're  in  a  saving  mood,"  remarked  Airey,  grimly, 
as  he  obeyed  her. 

326 


THE    PHILOSOPHY   OF   IT 

"Don't  shut  the  safe  yet,"  she  commanded,  hastily. 
"  Leave  it  like  that — yes,  just  half-way.  What  ogreish 
old  bolts  it's  got!" 

"Why  not  shut  it?"  he  objected,  in  apparent  annoy- 
ance. Did  the  sight  of  its  partial  depletion  vex  him? 
For,  before  Peggy  could  go  to  Pricker's,  some  of  its 
hoard  had  gone  to  Tommy  Trent. 

"There's  something  to  put  in  it,"  she  answered,  in 
an  eager,  timid  voice.  She  set  her  little  bag  on  the 
table  and  opened  it.  "  You  gave  me  too  much.  Here's 
some  back  again."  She  held  out  a  bundle  of  notes. 
"A  thousand  pounds." 

He  came  slowly  across  to  the  table. 

"  How  did  you  manage  that?" 

''  I  don't  know.  I  never  thought  of  it.  He  just  gave 
them  back  to  me.  Here  they  are.  Take  them  and 
put  them  in." 

He  looked  at  them  and  at  her.  The  old  demon  stirred 
in  him;  he  reached  out  his  hand  towards  them  with 
his  old  eagerness.  He  had  run  over  figures  in  his 
mind;  they  made  up  a  round  sum — and  round  sums 
he  had  loved.  Peggy  did  not  glance  at  him ;  her  arms 
were  on  the  table  and  her  eyes  studied  the  cloth.  He 
walked  away  to  the  hearth-rug  and  stood  silent  for  a 
long  while.  There  was  no  reason  why  he  should  not 
take  back  his  money ;  no  reproach  lay  in  that — it  was 
the  obvious  and  the  sensible  thing  to  do.  All  these 
considerations  the  demon  duly  adduced;  the  demon 
had  always  been  a  plausible  arguer.  Airey  Newton 
listened,  but  his  ears  were  not  as  amenable  as  they 
had  been  wont  to  be.  He  saw  through  the  demon's 
specious  case.  Here  was  the  gate  by  which  the  demon 
tried  to  slip  back  to  the  citadel  of  his  heart! 

Peggy  had  expected  nothing  else  than  that  he  would 
take  them  at  once.  In  a  way,  it  would  have  given  her 

327 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF   PEGGY 

pleasure  to  see  him  thus  consoled;  she  would  have 
understood  and  condoned  the  comfort  he  got,  and 
thought  no  less  of  his  sacrifice.  His  hesitation  plant- 
ed in  her  the  hope  of  a  pleasure  infinitely  finer.  The 
demon's  plausible  suggestions  carried  no  force  at  all 
for  her.  She  saw  the  inner  truth.  She  had  resolved 
not  to  look  at  Airey ;  under  irresistible  temptations  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  his. 

"  That's  not  mine/'  he  said  at  last.  "  You  say  Frick- 
er  gave  it  back  to  you.  It's  yours,  then." 

"Oh  no,  that's  nonsense!  It's  yours,  of  course, 
Airey." 

"I  won't  touch  it."  He  walked  across  to  the  safe, 
banged  it  to,  and  locked  it  with  savage  decision;  the 
key  he  flung  down  on  the  table.  Then  he  came  back 
to  the  hearth-rug.  "I  won't  touch  it.  It's  not  mine, 
I  say." 

"I  won't  touch  it;  it's  not  mine,  either,"  insisted 
Peggy. 

The  despised  notes  lay  on  the  table  between  them. 
Peggy  rose  and  slowly  came  to  him.  She  took  his 
hands. 

"Oh,  Airey,  Airey!"  she  said,  in  whispered  rapture. 

"Bosh!  Be  business-like.  Put  them  in  your  bag 
again." 

"Never!"  she  laughed,  softly. 

"Then  there  they  lie."  He  broke  into  a  laugh. 
"  And  there  they  would,  even  if  you  left  me  alone  with 
them!" 

"Airey,  you'll  see  her  soon?" 

"What  the  deuce  has  that  got  to  do  with  it?" 

"Nothing,  nothing!"  Her  gayety  rose  and  would 
not  be  denied.  "  A  little  mistake  of  mine !  But  what 
are  we  to  do  with  them?" 

"The  poor?"  he  suggested.     Peggy  felt  that  pro- 
328 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    IT 

saic,  and  shook  her  head.  "The  fire?  Only  there 
isn't  one.  Spills?  The  butterman?" 

"They  do  crackle  so  seductively/'  sighed  Peggy. 

"Hush!"  said  Airey,  with  great  severity. 

Her  heart  was  very  light  in  her.  If  he  could  jest 
about  the  trouble,  surely  the  trouble  was  wellnigh 
past?  Could  it  be  abolished  altogether?  A  sudden 
inspiration  filled  her  mind;  her  eyes  grew  bright  in 
eagerness,  and  her  laugh  came  full,  though  low. 

"How  stupid  we  are!  Why,  we'll  spend  them, 
Airey!" 

"What?"    That  suggestion  did  startle  him. 

"This  very  day." 

"All  of  them?" 

"Every  farthing.     It  '11  be  glorious!" 

"What  are  we  to  spend  them  on?"  He  looked  at 
them  apprehensively. 

"Oh,  that  won't  be  difficult,"  she  declared.  "You 
must  just  do  as  I  tell  you,  and  I  can  manage  it." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  that  I  could  have  a  better  guide. " 

"Go  and  put  on  your  best  clothes.  You're  going 
out  with  me." 

"  I've  got  them  on/'  smiled  Airey  Newton. 

"Oh,  1  beg  your  pardon!"  cried  Peggy,  in  momen- 
tary distress.  His  face  reassured  her;  they  both  fell 
to  laughing. 

"Well,  anyhow,"  she  suggested,  as  a  last  resort, 
"suppose  you  brush  them?" 

Airey  had  no  objection  to  that,  and  departed  to  his 
room. 

Peggy  moved  about  in  restless  excitement,  fired  by 
her  idea.  "First  for  her!  And  then — "  She  shook 
her  head  at  her  own  audacity.  Yet  confidence  would 
not  die  in  her.  Had  she  really  struck  on  the  way? 
Had  not  the  demon  summoned  up  all  his  most  seduc- 

329 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

live  arguments  just  because  he  was  sore  afraid?  It 
was  madness.  "Yes,  madness  to  cure  madness!" 
cried  Peggy,  in  her  heart.  A  gift  to  the  poor  would 
not  do  that;  the  fire  would  consume  and  offer  nothing 
in  return.  She  would  try. 

Airey  seemed  to  surrender  himself  into  her  hands; 
he  climbed  into  the  cab  docilely.  She  had  run  down 
first  and  given  the  man  a  direction.  Airey  did  not  ask 
where  they  were  going.  She  opened  the  little  bag, 
took  out  its  contents,  and  thrust  them  into  his  hands ; 
he  pocketed  them  without  a  word.  They  drove  west- 
ward. She  glanced  at  him  covertly  once  or  twice; 
his  face  was  puzzled  but  not  pained.  He  wore  an  air  of 
sedate  meditation;  it  was  so  out  of  keeping  with  the 
character  of  the  expedition  that  Peggy  smiled  again. 

She  darted  another  quick  look  at  him  as  they  drew 
up  at  their  first  destination.  He  raised  his  brows  a 
little,  but  followed  her  in  silence.  Peggy  gave  a  gasp 
of  relief  as  they  passed  within  the  doors. 

The  shopman  was  not  tall  and  prim,  like  the  bank 
clerk;  he  was  short,  stout,  and  inclined  to  roguish- 
ness  ;  his  eyes  twinkled  over  Peggy,  but  he  was  fairly 
at  his  wits'  end  for  an  explanation.  They  could  not 
be  an  engaged  pair;  Airey 's  manner  gave  no  hint  of  it 
— and  the  shopman  was  an  experienced  judge.  Was  it 
an  intrigue?  Really,  in  the  shopman's  opinion,  Airey 's 
coat  forbade  the  supposition.  He  inclined  to  the  theory 
of  a  doting  uncle  or  a  prodigal  godfather.  He  tumbled 
out  his  wares  in  the  profusion  such  a  chance  demanded. 

At  first  Airey  was  very  indifferent,  but  presently  he 
warmed  up.  He  became  critical  as  to  the  setting  of  a 
ring,  as  to  the  stones  in  a  bracelet.  He  even  suggested 
once  or  twice  that  the  color  of  the  stones  was  not  suit- 
able, and  Peggy  was  eager  to  agree.  The  shopman 
groped  in  deeper  darkness,  since  he  had  taken  Peggy's 

330 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF   IT 

complexion  as  his  guiding-star.  However,  the  bargains 
were  made — that  was  the  thing;  three  or  four  little 
boxes  lay  on  the  counter  neatly  packed. 

"1  will  bring  them  round  myself,  madam,  if  you 
will  favor  me  with  the  address." 

"  We'll  take  them  with  us,  please,"  said  Peggy. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause;  a  polite  but  em- 
barrassed smile  appeared  on  the  shopman's  face;  an 
altogether  different  explanation  had  for  the  moment 
suggested  itself. 

"  We'll  pay  now  and  take  them  with  us,"  said  Peggy. 

"Oh,  certainly,  if  you  prefer,  madam,"  murmured 
the  shopman,  gratefully.  He  engaged  upon  figures. 
Peggy  jumped  down  from  her  chair  and  ranged  about 
the  shop,  inspecting  tiaras  at  impossible  prices.  She 
did  not  come  back  for  three  or  four  minutes.  Airey 
was  waiting  for  her,  the  small  boxes  in  his  hand. 

She  darted  out  of  the  shop  and  gave  the  cabman 
another  direction.  Airey  followed  her  with  a  slow- 
ness that  seemed  deliberate.  She  said  nothing  till 
they  stopped  again ;  then  she  observed,  just  as  she  got 
out  of  the  cab,  "This  is  the  best  place  for  pearls." 

Airey  was  a  connoisseur  in  pearls,  or  so  it  seemed. 
He  awoke  to  an  extraordinary  interest  in  them;  Peggy 
and  he  actually  quarrelled  over  the  relative  merits  of 
a  couple  of  strings.  The  shopman  arbitrated  in  favor 
of  the  more  highly  priced;  it  had  been  Airey's  choice, 
and  he  was  ungracefully  exultant. 

"I  don't  like  shopping  with  you,"  declared  Peggy, 
pettishly. 

"Anything  for  a  quiet  life!"  sighed  Airey.  "Well 
have  them  both." 

A  quick  suspicion  shot  into  her  eyes. 

"No,  no,  no,"  she  whispered,  imperatively. 

"Why  not?" 

331 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"It  would  just  spoil  it  all.     Don't  spoil  it,  Airey!" 

He  yielded.  Here  again  the  shopman  had  several 
theories,  but  no  conviction  as  to  the  situation. 

"Now  we  might  lunch,"  Peggy  suggested.  "It's 
very  tiring  work,  isn't  it?" 

At  lunch  Airey  was  positively  cantankerous.  Noth- 
ing in  the  table-d'hote  meal  satisfied  him;  the  place  had 
to  be  ransacked  for  recondite  dainties.  As  for  wine, 
he  tried  three  brands  before  he  would  drink,  and  then 
did  not  pretend  to  be  satisfied.  The  cigar  he  lit  af- 
terwards was  an  ostentatious,  gold-wrapped  monster. 
"  We  procure  them  especially  for  the  Baron  von  Pluto- 
pluter,"  the  chef  d'hdtel  informed  him,  significantly. 

"I'll  put  half  a  dozen  in  my  pocket,"  said  Airey. 

Peggy  eyed  the  cigar  apprehensively. 

"  Will  that  take  very  long ?"  she  asked.  "  We've  lots 
more  to  do,  you  know. " 

"What  more  is  there  to  do?"  he  inquired,  amiably. 

"Well,  there's  a  good  deal  left  still,  you  know,"  she 
murmured,  in  a  rather  embarrassed  way. 

"By  Jove!  so  there  is,"  he  agreed.  "But  I  don't 
quite  see — " 

Certainly  Peggy  was  a  little  troubled ;  her  confidence 
seemed  to  fail  her  rather;  she  appeared  to  contemplate 
a  new  and  difficult  enterprise. 

"There  isn't  a  bit  too  much  if — if  we  do  the  proper 
thing,"  she  said.  She  looked  at  him — it  might  be  said 
she  looked  over  him  —  with  a  significant  gaze.  He 
glanced  down  at  his  coat. 

"  Oh,  nonsense !     There's  no  fun  in  that,"  he  objected. 

"It's  quite  half  the  whole  thing,"  she  insisted. 

There  were  signs  of  rebellion  about  him;  he  fussed 
and  fidgeted,  hardly  doing  justice  to  the  Baron  von 
Plutopluter's  taste  in  cigars. 

"I  shall  look  such  an  ass,"  he  grumbled  at  last. 
332 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF   IT 

"You  shall  be  quite  moderate/'  she  pleaded,  spe- 
ciously but  insincerely.  She  was  relieved  at  the 
form  of  his  objection;  she  had  feared  worse.  His 
brow,  too,  cleared  a  little. 

"Is  there  really  any  philosophy  in  it,  Peggy?"  he 
asked,  in  a  humorous  puzzle. 

"  You  liked  it.  You  know  you  enjoyed  it  this  morn- 
ing." 

"That  was  for — well,  I  hope  for  somebody  else." 

"Do  try  it — just  this  once,"  she  implored. 

He  abandoned  himself  to  her  persuasion;  had  not 
that  been  his  bargain  for  the  day?  The  hansom  was 
called  into  service  again.  First  to  Panting's — where 
Airey 's  coat  gave  a  shock  such  as  the  establishment 
had  not  experienced  for  many  a  day — then  to  other 
high-class  shops.  Into  some  of  these  Peggy  did  not 
accompany  him.  She  would  point  to  a  note  and  say, 
"Not  more  than  half  the  change  out  of  that/'  or,  "No 
change  at  all  out  of  that."  When  Airey  came  out  she 
watched  eagerly  to  see  how  profound  would  be  the  shop- 
man's bow,  how  urgent  his  entreaty  that  he  might  be 
honored  by  further  favors.  It  is  said  that  the  rumor 
of  a  new  millionaire  ran  through  the  London  of  trade 
that  day. 

"Are  you  liking  it,  Airey?"  She  was  nearly  at  an 
end  of  her  invention  when  she  put  the  question. 

He  would  give  her  no  answer.  "Have  you  any- 
where else  you  want  to  go?" 

She  thought  hard.     He  turned  to  her  smiling. 

"Positively  I  will  not  become  the  owner  of  a  grand 
piano." 

A  brilliant  idea  flashed  on  her — obvious  as  soon  as 
discovered,  like  all  brilliant  ideas. 

"Why,  you'll  have  nothing  decent  to  carry  them  in 
when  you  go  visiting!" 

333 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

A  sudden  sense  of  ludicrousness  overcame  Airey; 
he  lay  back  in  the  cab  and  laughed.  Was  the  idea  of 
visiting  so  ludicrous?  Or  was  it  the  whole  thing? 
And  Peggy's  anxious  seriousness  alternating  with 
fits  of  triumphant  vivacity?  All  through  the  visit  to 
the  trunk-maker's  Airey  laughed. 

"I  can't  think  of  anything  else — though  there's  a 
note  left,"  she  said,  with  an  air  of  vexed  perplexity. 

"You're  absolutely  gravelled,  are  you?"  he  asked. 
"No,  no,  not  the  piano!" 

"  I'm  finished,"  she  acknowledged,  sorrowfully.  She 
turned  to  him  with  an  outburst  of  gleef ulness.  "  Hasn't 
it  been  a  wonderful  day?  Haven't  we  squandered, 
Airey?" 

"We've  certainly  done  ourselves  very  well,"  said  he. 

The  cabman  begged  directions  through  the  roof. 

"I  don't  know,"  murmured  Peggy,  in  smiling  de- 
spair. "Yes,  yes,"  she  called,  "back  to  Danes  Inn! 
Tea  and  bread-and-butter,  Airey!" 

He  took  the  key  of  his  chambers  from  his  pocket. 
"You  go  and  make  tea.  I'll  be  after  you  directly." 

"Have  you  thought  of  anything  else?"  she  cried, 
with  a  merry  smile. 

"I  want  to  walk  home  and  think  about  it,"  said 
Airey.  "I  sha'n't  be  long.  Good-bye."  He  recol- 
lected a  trifle.  "Here's  some  money  for  the  cab." 

"All  that?"  asked  Peggy. 

"He's  sure  we're  mad  already.  Don't  let's  disturb 
his  convictions,"  Airey  argued. 

She  gave  no  order  to  the  man  for  a  moment;  she 
sat  and  watched  Airey  stroll  off  down  Regent  Street, 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  (he  never  would  carry  a  stick) 
and  his  head  bent  a  little  forward,  as  his  custom  was. 
"What  is  he  thinking?"  she  asked  herself.  What 
would  he  think  when  he  realized  the  freak  into  which 

334 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF   IT 

she  had  led  him?  He  might  turn  very  bitter — not  with 
her  but  with  himself.  The  enjoyment  into  which  he 
had  been  betrayed  might  now,  in  a  reaction  of  feeling, 
seem  the  merest  folly.  How  should  she  argue  that  it 
had  not  been?  What  would  any  sober  judgment  on 
it  say?  Peggy  drove  back  to  Danes  Inn  in  an  anx- 
ious and  depressed  state.  Yet  ever  and  again  the  hu- 
mors of  the  expedition  broke  in  on  her  memory,  and  she 
smiled  again.  She  chinked  the  two  sovereigns  he  had 
given  her  in  her  hand.  What  was  the  upshot  of  the 
day?  When  she  paid  the  cabman  she  exchanged 
smiles  with  him;  that  gave  her  some  little  comfort. 

Danes  Inn  was  comforting,  too.  She  hastened  to 
make  tea ;  everything  was  to  be  as  in  old  days ;  to  add 
to  the  illusion,  she  herself,  having  been  too  excited  to 
eat  lunch,  was  now  genuinely  hungry.  She  began 
to  cut  bread-and-butter.  The  loaf  was  stale!  Why, 
that  was  like  old  days,  too ;  she  used  to  grumble  at  that, 
and  Airey  always  seemed  distressed ;  he  used  to  pledge 
himself  to  have  new  loaves,  but  they  did  not  always 
come.  Now  she  saw  why.  She  cut  the  bread  with  a 
liberal  and  energetic  hand;  but  as  she  cut — nothing 
could  be  more  absurd  or  incongruous — tears  came 
into  her  eyes.  "He  never  grudged  me  enough,  any- 
how," she  murmured,  buttering  busily. 

Surely,  surely,  what  she  had  done  should  turn  to 
good?  Must  it  stand  only  as  a  fit  of  madness,  to  be 
looked  back  on  with  shame  or  spoken  of  with  bitter 
ridicule?  It  was  open  enough  to  all  this.  Her  heart 
still  declared  that  it  was  open  to  something  else,  too. 
The  sun  shot  a  ray  in  at  the  big,  dingy  window  and 
lit  up  her  face  and  hair.  Her  task  was  finished ;  she 
threw  herself  into  her  usual  chair  and  waited.  When 
he  came  she  would  know.  He  would  have  thought  it 
over.  His  step  was  on  the  stair ;  she  had  left  the  door 

335 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

unlatched  for  him;  she  sat  and  waited,  shutting  her 
eyes  before  the  brightness  of  that  intruding  ray. 

An  apprehension  seized  her — the  fear  of  a  task  that 
she  delayed.  The  step  might  not  be  Airey 's ;  it  might 
be  Tommy  Trent's.  She  might  never  be  ready  with 
her  apology  to  Tommy,  but,  at  any  rate,  she  was  not 
ready  yet.  No,  surely  it  could  not  be  Tommy!  Why 
should  he  happen  to  come  now?  It  was  much  more 
likely  to  be  Airey. 

The  expected  happened ;  after  all,  it  sometimes  does. 
Airey  it  was ;  the  idea  that  it  was  Tommy  had  served 
only  to  increase  Peggy's  sense  of  the  generally  critical 
character  of  the  situation.  She  had  taken  such  risks 
with  everybody — perhaps  she  must  say  such  liberties. 

"Tea's  ready,"  she  called  to  Airey  the  moment  he 
appeared. 

He  took  no  sort  of  notice  of  that.  His  face,  grave,  as 
a  rule,  and  strong,  heretofore  careworn  too,  had  put  on 
a  strange,  boyish  gayety.  He  came  up  behind  her 
chair.  She  tried  to  rise.  He  pressed  her  down,  his 
hands  on  her  shoulders. 

"Sit  still,"  he  commanded.  "Lean  your  head  for- 
ward. You've  got  a  plaguey  lot  of  hair,  Peggy!" 

"What  are  you  doing?"  she  demanded,  fiercely. 

"You've  ordered  me  about  all  day.     Sit  still." 

She  felt  his  fingers  on  her  neck;  then  she  felt,  too, 
the  touch  of  things  smooth  and  cold.  A  little  clasp 
clicked  home.  Airey  Newton  sprang  back.  Peggy 
was  on  her  feet  in  a  moment. 

"  You've  done  that,  after  all?"  she  cried,  indignantly. 

"  You  were  at  the  end  of  your  ideas.  That's  mine — 
and  it  balanced  the  thing  out  to  the  last  farthing!" 

"  I  told  you  it  would  spoil  it  all !"  Her  reproach  was 
bitter  as  she  touched  the  string  of  pearls. 

"No,  Peggy,"  he  said.  "It  only  spoils  it  if  it  was  a 
336 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF   IT 

prank,  an  experiment,  a  test  of  your  ingenuity,  young 
woman.  But  it  doesn't  spoil  it  if  it  was  something 
else." 

"What  else?"  she  asked,  softly,  sinking  back  again 
into  her  chair  and  fingering  his  present  with  a  touch 
so  gentle  as  to  seem  almost  reverent.  "What  else, 
Airey,  dear?" 

"It  came  on  me  as  I  walked  away  from  the  shop — 
not  while  I  was  going  there.  1  was  rather  unhappy 
till  I  got  there.  But  as  I  walked  home — with  that 
thing — it  seemed  to  come  on  me."  He  was  standing 
before  her  with  the  happy  look  of  a  man  to  whom  hap- 
piness is  something  strange  and  new.  "  '  That's  it/ 
I  thought  to  myself,  'though  how  the  deuce  that  chit 
found  it  out — !'  It  would  be  bad,  Peggy,  if  a  man 
who  had  worshipped  an  idol  kicked  it  every  day  after 
he  was  converted.  It  would  be  vicious  and  unbecom- 
ing. But  he  should  kick  it  once  in  token  of  emancipa- 
tion. If  a  man  had  loved  an  unworthy  woman  (sup- 
posing there  are  any),  he  should  be  most  courteous  to 
her  always,  shouldn't  he?" 

"As  a  rule,"  smiled  Peggy. 

"As  a  rule,  yes/'  he  caught  up,  eagerly.  "But 
shouldn't  she  have  the  truth  once?  She'd  have  been 
a  superstition,  too,  and  for  once  the  truth  should  be 
told.  Well,  all  that  came  to  me.  And  that's  the  phi- 
losophy of  it.  Though  how  you  found  it  out — !  Well, 
no  matter.  So  it's  not  a  mere  freak.  Was  it  a  mere 
test  of  your  ingenuity,  young  friend?" 

"I  just  had  to  try  it,"  said  Peggy  Ryle,  bewildered, 
delighted,  bordering  on  tears. 

"So,  will  you  wear  the  pearls?"  He  paused,  then 
laughed.  "Yes,  and  eat  your  bread-and-butter."  He 
came  up  to  her,  holding  out  his  hands.  "  The  chains 
are  loose,  Peggy,  the  chains  are  loose."  He  seized  his 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

pipe  and  began  to  fill  it,  motioning  her  again  towards 
the  tea-table.  To  humor  him  she  went  to  it  and  took 
up  a  slice  of  bread-and-butter. 

"A  stale  loaf,  Airey!"  she  whispered — and  seemed 
to  choke  before  she  tasted  it  in  an  anticipated  struggle 
with  its  obstinate  substance. 

He  smiled  in  understanding.  "  How  men  go  wrong 
— and  women !  Look  at  me,  look  at  Fricker,  yes,  look 
at — her!  We  none  of  us  knew  the  way.  Fricker  won't 
learn.  She  has  —  perhaps!  I  have,  I  think."  He 
moved  towards  her.  "And  you've  done  it,  Peggy/' 

"  No,  no,"  she  cried.  "  Oh,  how  can  you  be  so  wrong 
as  that?" 

"What?"  He  stood  still  in  surprise.  "Didn't  you 
suggest  it  all?  Didn't  you  take  me?  Wasn't  it  for 
you  that  I  did  it?" 

"Oh,  you're  so  blind,"  she  cried,  scornfully.  "Per- 
haps I  suggested  it,  perhaps  I  went  with  you.  What 
does  that  matter?" 

"Well,  Peggy?"  he  said,  in  his  old,  indulgent,  pleas- 
ant way. 

"Oh,  I'm  glad  only  one  thing's  changed  in  you!" 
she  burst  out. 

"Well,  Peggy?"  he  persisted. 

"Were  you  thinking  of  me?"  she  demanded,  con- 
temptuously. "Were  you  kicking  your  idol  for  me? 
Were  you  buying  for  me?  What  made  it  harder  to 
buy  after  lunch  than  before?  Was  that  the  difference 
between  buying  for  yourself  and  for  me?"  Her  scorn 
grew  with  every  question.  "What  have  I  done  that 
you  should  give  me  this?"  She  plucked  fretfully  at 
the  offending  string  of  pearls. 

"  Never  mind  that.  It  was  only  to  use  up  the  change 
— if  you  like.  What  do  you  mean  by  the  rest  of  it?" 

"What  do  I  mean?"  cried  Peggy.  "I  mean  that  if 

338 


THE    PHILOSOPHY   OF   IT 

you've  done  her  a  service,  she's  done  you  more.  If 
you've  given  her  back  her  self-respect,  what  hasn't  she 
done  for  you?  Are  you  going  to  her  as  her  saviour? 
Oh,  I  know  you  won't  talk  about  it!  But  is  that  in 
your  mind?  Go  to  her  as  yours,  too!  Be  honest, 
Airey!  Whose  face  was  in  your  mind  through  the 
drive  to-day?  If  you  ever  thought  of  telling  it  all,  who 
were  you  going  to  tell  it  to?  If  you  wanted  to  be  free, 
for  whom  did  you  want  your  freedom?  I!  What 
had  I  to  do  with  it?  If  I  could  seem  to  speak  with  her 
voice,  it  was  all  I  could  do.  And  you've  been  think- 
ing that  she's  done  nothing  for  you.  Oh,  the  injus- 
tice of  it!"  She  put  up  her  hand  and  laid  it  on  his, 
which  now  rested  on  the  back  of  her  chair.  "Don't 
you  see,  Airey,  don't  you  see?" 

He  smoked  his  pipe  steadily,  but  as  yet  he  gave  her 
no  assent. 

"It's  cost  me  nothing — or  not  much,"  Peggy  went 
on.  "I  broke  two  promises." 

"Two?"  he  interrupted,  quickly. 

"Yes,  one  you  know  —  to  Tommy."  He  nodded. 
"The  other  to  her — I  promised  to  tell  no  one  she  was 
ruined.  But  that's  not  much.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  all 
that  she's  gone  through,  all  she's  lost,  all  she's  suf- 
fered— yes,  if  you  like,  all  the  wrong  things  she's  done 
— had  somehow  all  been  for  you.  She  was  the  only 
woman  who'd  have  made  the  change  in  you.  Nobody 
else  could  have  driven  out  the  idol,  Airey.  You  talk 
of  me.  You've  known  me  for  years.  Did  I  ever  drive 
it  out?  No,  she  had  to  do  it.  And  before  she  could, 
she  had  to  be  ruined,  she  had  to  be  in  the  dust,  per- 
haps she  had  to  be  cruel  or  unjust  to  others.  I  can't 
work  out  the  philosophy  of  it,  but  that's  how  it's  hap- 
pened." She  paused,  only  to  break  out  vehemently 
again :  "  You  spoil  it  with  your  talk  of  me ;  you  spoil 

339 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

it  with  the  necklace  I"  With  a  sudden  movement  she 
raised  her  hands,  unclasped  the  pearls  from  about  her 
neck,  and  threw  them  on  the  table.  "Everything  for 
her,  Airey,"  she  begged,  "everything  for  her!" 

His  eyes  followed  the  pearls,  and  he  smiled.  "But 
what  about  all  the  things  for  me?" 

"Aren't  they  for  her,  too?  Aren't  you  for  her? 
Wouldn't  you  go  to  her  as  fine  as  you  could?" 

"What  a  woman — what  a  very  woman  you  are!" 
he  chuckled,  softly. 

"  No,  that's  all  right,"  she  insisted,  eagerly.  "  Would 
she  be  happy  if  you  lavished  things  on  her  and  were 
still  wretched  if  you  had  anything  for  yourself?"  She 
was  full  of  her  subject;  she  sprang  up  and  faced 
him.  "  Not  this  time  to  the  poor,  because  they  can't 
repay !  Not  this  time  to  the  fire,  because  it  would  give 
you  no  profit !  You  must  love  this — it's  a  great  invest- 
ment!" 

He  sat  down  in  the  chair  she  had  left  empty  and 
played  with  the  pearls  that  lay  on  the  table. 

"Yes,  you're  right,"  he  said,  at  last.  "She  was 
the  beginning  of  it.  It  was  she  who — but  shall  I  tell 
that  to  her?" 

"Yes,  tell  it  to  her,  to  her  only,"  urged  Peggy  Ryle. 

"Give  me  your  hands,  Peggy.  I  want  to  tell  some- 
thing to  you." 

"No,  no,  there's  nothing  to  tell  me — nothing!" 

"  If  the  philosophy  is  great  and  true,  is  there  to  be  no 
credit  for  the  teacher?" 

"Did  I?"  murmured  Peggy.  "Did  I?"  She  went 
on,  in  a  hurried  whisper :  "  If  that's  at  all  true,  perhaps 
Tommy  Trent  will  forgive  me  for  breaking  my  word." 

"If  Fricker  fell,  and  I  have  fallen,  who  is  Tommy 
Trent?" 

She  moved  away  with  a  laugh,  hunted  for  a  ciga- 
340 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF   IT 

rette — the  box  was  hidden  by  papers — found  it,  and  lit 
it.  She  saw  Airey  take  up  the  pearls,  go  to  the  safe, 
open  it,  and  lock  them  in. 

"Never!"  she  cried,  in  gay  but  determined  protest. 

"Yes,  some  day,"  said  he,  quietly,  as  he  went  back 
to  his  seat. 

They  sat  together  in  silence  till  Peggy  had  finished 
her  cigarette  and  thrown  it  away. 

"If  all  goes  well,"  he  Said,  softly,  more  as  though 
he  spoke  to  himself  than  to  her,  "I  shall  have  some- 
thing to  work  for  now.  I  can  fancy  work  will  be  very 
pleasant  now,  if  things  go  well,  Peggy." 

She  rose  and  crossed  over  to  him. 

"  I  must  run  away,"  she  said,  softly.  She  leaned 
down  towards  him.  "  Is  it  a  great  change?"  she  asked. 

"Tremendous — as  tremendous  as  its  philosophy." 
He  was  serious  under  the  banter.  She  was  encouraged 
to  her  last  venture,  which  he  might  have  laughed  back 
into  retreat. 

"  It  isn't  really  any  change  to  me,"  she  told  him,  in 
a  voice  that  trembled  a  little.  "You've  always  been 
all  right  to  me.  This  has  always  been  a  refuge  and 
a  hospitable  home  to  me.  If  it  had  all  failed,  I  should 
have  loved  you  still,  Airey,  my  friend." 

Airey  was  silent  again  for  an  instant. 

"  Thank  God,  I  think  I  can  believe  you  in  that,"  he 
said,  at  last. 

She  waited  a  moment  longer,  caressing  his  hand 
gently. 

"And  you'll  go  soon?"  she  whispered.  "You'll  go 
to  her  soon?" 

"  This  very  night,  my  dear,"  said  Airey  Newton. 

Peggy  stood  upright.  Again  the  sun's  rays  caught 
her  eyes  and  hair,  and  flashed  on  her  hands  as  she 
stretched  them  out  in  an  ample  luxury  of  joy. 

341 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"Oh,  what  a  world  it  is,  if  you  treat  it  properly, 
Aireyl"  she  cried. 

But  she  also  had  made  her  discovery.  It  was  with 
plain  amusement  and  a  little  laugh,  still  half  incred- 
ulous, that  she  added :  "  And,  after  all,  there  may  be 
some  good  in  saving  money,  too!" 


XXIII 

THE  LAST  KICK 

IT  was  no  wonder  that  Trix  Trevalla  was  holding 
up  her  head  again.  Her  neck  was  freed  from  a 
triple  load.  Mervyn  was  gone,  and  gone,  she  had 
warrant  for  believing,  if  not  in  contentment,  yet  in 
some  degree  of  charity.  Beaufort  Chance,  that  terror 
of  hers,  whose  coarse  rebukes  made  justice  seem  base 
cruelty,  was  gone  too — and  Trix  was  still  unregenerate 
enough  not  to  care  a  jot  with  what  feelings.  His  fate 
seemed  so  exquisitely  appropriate  to  him  as  to  exclude 
penitence  in  her.  Lastly,  Fricker  was  gone,  and  with 
him  the  damning  sense  of  folly,  of  being  a  silly  dupe, 
which  had  weighed  more  sorely  than  anything  else 
on  a  spirit  full  of  pride.  Never  a  doubt  had  she  about 
Pricker's  letter.  He  had,  indeed,  been  honorable  in  his 
dealings  with  Peggy  Ryle;  he  had  left  Trix  to  think 
that  in  surrendering  the  shares  to  him  she  fell  in  with 
a  business  proposal  which  he  was  interested  in  making, 
and  that  she  gave  at  least  as  good  as  she  received. 
It  needed  very  little  more  to  make  her  believe  that  she 
was  conferring  a  favor  on  him,  and  thereby  cancelling 
the  last  item  of  the  score  that  he  once  had  against  her. 
Surely,  then,  Peggy  was  both  wise  and  merciful  in 
arguing  that  she  should  not  know  the  truth,  but  should 
still  think  that  she  was  in  debt  to  no  man  for  her  eman- 
cipation. 

Let  not  Peggy's  mercy  be  disputed,  nor  her  wisdom, 
343 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

either;  for  these  points  are  immaterial.  The  fault 
that  young  lady  did  commit  lay  in  a  little  oversight. 
It  is  well  to  decide  that  a  secret  shall  be  kept ;  but  it  is 
prudent,  as  a  preliminary  thereto,  to  consider  how 
many  people  already  know  it  or  are  in  a  position  where 
they  may  find  it  out.  Since  though  the  best  thing  of 
all  may  be  that  it  should  never  be  told,  the  second  best 
is  often  to  tell  it  one's  self — and  the  worst  of  all  to  leave 
the  telling  in  the  hands  of  an  enemy.  It  is  just  possible 
that  Peggy  had  grown  a  little  too  confident  with  all 
her  successful  generalship.  At  any  rate,  this  over- 
sight of  hers  made  not  a  little  trouble. 

"  DEAR  MR.  TRENT, — Come  to  me  immediately,  please. 
I  have  heard  a  most  extraordinary  story.  I  can  hardly  be- 
lieve it,  but  I  must  see  you  at  once.  I  shall  be  at  home  from 
six  to  seven,  and  later.  Yours  truly, 

"  TRIX  TRE VALLA." 

"Now  what's  the  meaning  of  that?"  asked  Tommy, 
smoothing  his  hat  and  setting  out  again  without  so 
much  as  sitting  down  for  a  pipe  after  he  got  back  from 
the  City.  "Has  Peggy  been  up  to  mischief  again?" 
He  frowned ;  he  had  not  forgiven  Peggy.  It  is  not  safe 
to  discourage  a  standard  which  puts  the  keeping  of 
promises  very  high  and  counts  any  argument  which 
tends  the  other  way  in  a  particular  case  as  dangerous 
casuistry.  Tommy's  temperament  was  dead  against 
casuistry;  perhaps,  to  be  candid,  his  especial  gifts  of 
intellect  constituted  no  temptation  to  the  art. 

Trix  received  him  with  chilling  haughtiness.  Evi- 
dently something  was  wrong.  And  the  wrong  thing 
was  to  be  visited  on  the  first  chance-comer — just  like  a 
woman,  thought  Tommy,  hasty  in  his  inference  and 
doubtless  unjust  in  his  psychology.  In  a  few  moments 
he  found  that  he  was  considered  by  no  means  a  chance- 

344 


THE    LAST    KICK 

comer  in  this  affair;  nor  had  he  been  sent  for  merely 
as  an  adviser.  Before  Trix  really  opened  the  case  at 
all  he  had  discovered  that  in  some  inexplicable  way  he 
was  a  culprit ;  the  tones  in  which  she  bade  him  sit  down 
were  enough  to  show  any  intelligent  man  as  much. 

Trix  might  be  high  and  mighty,  but  the  assumption 
of  this  manner  hid  a  very  sore  heart.  If  what  she  was 
now  told  were  true,  the  last  and  greatest  burden  had 
not  been  taken  away,  and  still  she  was  shamed.  But 
this  inner  mind  could  not  be  guessed  from  her  demeanor. 

"We've  been  good  friends,  Mr.  Trent/'  she  began, 
"and  I  have  to  thank  you  for  much  kindness — " 

"  Not  at  all.     That's  all  right,  really,  Mrs.  Trevalla. " 

"But  I'm  forced  to  ask  you,"  she  continued,  with 
overriding  imperturbability,  "by  what  right  you  con- 
cern yourself  in  my  affairs." 

Tommy  had  a  temper,  and  rather  a  quick  one.  He 
had  been  a  good  deal  vexed  lately,  too.  In  his  heart 
he  thought  that  rather  too  much  fuss  had  been  occa- 
sioned by  and  about  Mrs.  Trevalla;  this  was,  perhaps, 
one  of  the  limitations  of  sympathy  to  which  lovers  are 
somewhat  subject. 

"I  don't,"  he  answered,  rather  curtly. 

"Oh,  I  suppose  you're  in  the  plot  to  deceive  me!" 
she  flashed  out. 

If  he  were,  it  was  very  indirectly,  and  purely  as  a 
business  man.  He  had  been  asked  whether  the  law 
could  reach  Flicker,  and  had  been  obliged  to  answer 
that  it  could  not.  He  had  been  told  subsequently  to 
raise  money  on  certain  securities.  That  was  his  whole 
connection  with  the  matter. 

"But  don't  you  think  you  were  taking  a  liberty — 
an  enormous  liberty?  You'll  say  it  was  kindness. 
Well,  I  don't  dispute  your  motive,  but  it  was  presump- 
tion, too."  Trix's  disappointment  was  lashing  her 

345 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

into  a  revenging  fury.  "What  right  had  you  to  turn 
me  into  a  beggar,  to  make  me  take  your  money,  to 
think  I'd  live  on  your  charity  ?"  She  flung  the  question 
at  him  with  a  splendid  scorn. 

Tommy  wrinkled  his  brow  in  hopeless  perplexity. 

"On  my  honor,  I  don't  know  what  you're  talking 
about,"  he  declared.  "My  charity?  I've  never  of- 
fered you  charity,  Mrs.  Tre valla." 

"You  brazen  it  out!"  she  cried. 

"  I  don't  know  about  brazening,"  said  Tommy,  with 
a  wry  smile.  "I  say  it's  all  nonsense,  if  that's  what 
you  mean.  Somebody's  been  " — he  pulled  himself  up 
on  the  edge  of  an  expression  not  befitting  the  serious- 
ness of  the  occasion  —  "somebody's  been  telling  you 
a  cock-and-bull  story." 

"What  other  explanation  is  there?" 

"I  might  possibly  discover  one  if  you'd  begin  at  the 
beginning,"  suggested  Tommy,  with  hostile  blandness. 

"I  will  begin  at  the  beginning,  as  you  call  it,"  said 
Trix,  with  a  contempt  for  his  terminology  that  seemed 
hardly  warranted.  She  took  a  letter  from  her  pocket. 
"This  is  from  Mr.  Beaufort  Chance." 

"That  fellow!"  ejaculated  Tommy. 

"Yes,  that  fellow,  Mr.  Trent.  Mr.  Pricker's  friend, 
his  partner.  Listen  to  this."  She  sought  a  passage 
a  little  way  down  the  first  page.  " '  Not  so  clever  as 
you  think!' "  she  read.  " ' Glowing  Stars  were  as  pure 
a  fraud  as  ever  you  thought  them.  Rut  any  story's 
good  enough  for  you,  and  you  believed  Fricker  took 
them  back.  So  he  did — for  a  matter  of  three  thousand 
pounds.  And  he  could  have  had  four  if  he  liked. 
That's  what  your  cleverness  is  worth."  Trix's  voice 
faltered.  She  got  it  under  control  and  went  on  with 
flushed  cheeks,  the  letter  shaking  in  her  hand.  " '  Who 
paid  the  money?  Ask  Peggy  Ryle.  Has  Peggy 

346 


Ryle  got  thousands  to  throw  about?  Which  of  your 
charming  new  friends  has?  Ask  Miss  Peggy  who'd 
give  four  thousand  for  her  smiles!  If  she  doesn't 
know,  I  should  think  you  might  inquire  of  Tommy 
Trent."  Trix  stopped.  "There's  some  more  about 
— about  me,  but  it  doesn't  matter,"  she  ended. 

Tommy  Trent  pulled  his  mustache.  Here  was  a 
very  awkward  situation.  Beaufort  Chance's  last  kick 
was  a  nasty  one.  Why  couldn't  Flicker  have  held 
his  tongue,  instead  of  indulging  his  partner  with  such 
entertaining  confidences? 

"Well,  what  have  you  to  say  to  that?"  His  puzzled 
face  and  obvious  confusion  seemed  to  give  her  the  an- 
swer. With  something  like  a  sob  she  cried,  "  Ah,  you 
daren't  deny  it!" 

It  was  difficult  for  Tommy.  It  seemed  simple,  indeed, 
to  deny  that  he  had  given  Peggy  any  money ;  he  might 
strain  his  conscience  and  declare  that  he  knew  noth- 
ing of  any  money  being  given.  What  would  happen? 
Of  a  certainty  Peggy  Ryle  could  not  dispose  of  thou- 
sands. He  foresaw  how  Trix  would  track  out  the  truth 
by  her  persistent  and  indignant  questions.  The  truth 
would  implicate  his  friend  Airey  Newton,  and  he  him- 
self would  stand  guilty  of  just  such  a  crime  as  that  for 
which  he  held  Peggy  so  much  to  blame.  His  thoughts 
of  Beaufort  Chance  were  deep  and  dark. 

"  I  can't  explain  it,"  he  stammered,  at  length.  "  All 
I  know  is — " 

"I  want  the  truth!  Can  I  never  have  the  truth?" 
cried  Trix.  "Even  a  letter  like  that  I'm  glad  of,  if  it 
tells  me  the  truth.  And  I  thought — "  The  bitterness 
of  being  deluded  was  heavy  on  her  again.  She  attacked 
Tommy  fiercely.  "  On  your  honor  do  you  know  noth- 
ing about  it?  On  your  honor  did  Peggy  pay  Mr.  Flick- 
er money?  On  your  honor  did  you  give  it  her?" 

347 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

The  single  word  "Woman!"  would  have  summed 
up  Tommy's  most  intimate  feelings.  It  was,  however, 
too  brief  for  diplomacy,  or  for  a  man  who  wished  to 
keep  possession  of  the  floor  and  exclude  further  attacks 
from  an  opponent  in  an  overpowering  superiority. 

"What  I've  always  noticed/'  he  began,  in  a  deliber- 
ate tone, "  about  women  is  that  if  they  write  you  the  sort 
of  note  that  looks  as  if  you  were  the  only  friend  they 
had  on  earth,  or  the  only  fellow  whose  advice  would 
save  'em  from  ruin,  and  you  come  on  that  understand- 
ing— well,  as  soon  as  they  get  you  there,  they  pro- 
ceed to  drop  on  you  like  a  thousand  of  bricks." 

The  simile  was  superficially  inappropriate  to  Trix's 
trim,  tense  figure;  it  had  a  deeper  truth,  though. 

"If  you'd  answer  my  questions — "  she  began,  in  an 
ominous  and  deceptive  calm. 

"Which  of  them?"  cried  Tommy,  in  mad  exaspera- 
tion. 

"Take  them  in  any  order  you  please,"  she  conceded, 
graciously. 

Tommy's  back  was  against  the  wall ;  he  fought  des- 
perately for  his  own  honor,  desperately  for  his  friends' 
secrets.  One  of  the  friends  had  betrayed  his.  She 
was  a  girl.  Cadit  quaestio. 

"  If  I  had  supposed  that  this  was  going  to  be  a  busi- 
ness interview — " 

"  And  about  your  business,  it  seems,  though  I  thought 
it  was  mine!  Am  1  living  on  your  charity?" 

"No!"  he  thundered  out,  greeting  the  simple  ques- 
tion and  the  possible  denial.  "  I've  never  paid  a  shil- 
ling for  you."  His  tone  implied  that  he  was  content, 
moreover,  to  leave  that  state  of  affairs  as  it  was. 

"Then  on  whose?"  asked  Trix.  Her  voice  became 
pathetic ;  her  attitude  was  imploring  now.  She  blamed 
herself  for  this,  thinking  it  lost  her  all  command.  How 

348 


THE    LAST    KICK 

profoundly  wrong  she  was  Tommy's  increased  dis- 
tress witnessed  very  plainly. 

"  I  say,  now,  let's  discuss  it  calmly.  Now  just  sup- 
pose— just  take  the  hypothesis — " 

Trix  turned  from  him  with  a  quick  jerk  of  her  head. 
The  baize  door  outside  had  swung  to  and  fro.  Tommy 
heard  it,  too ;  his  eye  brightened ;  there  was  no  intruder 
whom  he  would  not  have  welcomed,  from  the  tax-col- 
lector to  the  bull  of  Bashan;  he  would  have  preferred 
the  latter  as  being  presumably  the  more  violent. 

"There,  somebody's  coming.  I  told  you  it  was  no 
place  to  discuss  things  of  this  kind,  Mrs.  Trevalla." 

"Of  all  cowardly  creatures,  men  are — "  began  Trix. 

A  low,  gently  crooned  song  reached  them  from  the 
passage.  The  words  were  not  very  distinct — Peggy 
sang  to  please  herself,  not  to  inform  the  world — but 
the  air  was  soothing  and  the  tones  tender.  Yet  neither 
of  them  seemed  moved  to  artistic  enjoyment. 

"Peggy,  by  Jove!"  whispered  Tommy,  in  a  fearful 
voice. 

"  Now  we  can  have  the  truth,"  said  Trix.  She  spoke 
almost  like  a  virago,  but  when  she  sat  at  the  table, 
her  chin  between  her  hands,  she  turned  on  Tommy 
such  a  pitiful,  harassed  face  that  he  could  have  cried 
with  her. 

In  came  Peggy;  she  had  been  to  one  or  two  places 
since  Danes  Inn,  but  the  glory  and  gayety  of  her  visit 
there  hung  about  her  still.  She  entered  gallantly. 
Then  she  saw  Tommy — and  Tommy  only,  at  first. 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed.     "Are  you  waiting  for  me?" 

Her  joy  fled ;  that  was  strange,  since  it  was  Tommy. 
But  there  he  sat,  and  sat  frowning.  It  was  the  day 
of  reckoning! 

"I've — I've  been  meaning  to  come  and  see  you," 
Peggy  went  on,  hastily,  "and — and  explain." 

349 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"I  must  ask  you  to  explain  to  me  first,  Peggy/' 

This  from  a  most  forbidding,  majestic  Trix,  hitherto 
unperceived.  She  had  summoned  her  forces  again; 
the  pleading  pitifulness  was  gone  from  her  face.  Tom- 
my reproached  himself  for  a  sneak  and  a  coward,  but 
for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  help  thinking,  "Now 
they  can  fight  it  out  together!" 

At  first  Peggy  was  relieved ;  a  tete-a-tete  was  avoided. 
She  did  not  dream  that  her  secret  was  found  out.  Who 
would  have  thought  of  Pricker's  taste  for  a  good  story 
or  of  that  last  kick  of  malice  in  Beaufort  Chance? 

"Oh,  there  you  are  too,  Trix!  So  glad  to  find  you. 
I've  only  run  in  for  just  a  minute  to  change  my  frock 
before  I  go  out  to  dinner  with  the — " 

"It's  only  a  quarter  to  seven.  I  want  to  ask  you  a 
question  first." 

Trix's  chilliness  was  again  most  pronounced  and 
unmistakable.  Peggy  glanced  at  Tommy;  a  sullen 
and  wilfully  uninforming  shrug  of  the  shoulders  was 
all  that  she  got.  Peggy  had  enjoyed  the  day  very 
much;  she  was  young  enough  to  expect  the  evening 
to  be  like  it ;  she  protested  vigorously  against  this  sort 
of  atmosphere. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  both?"  she  cried. 

Trix  came  straight  to  the  point  this  time.  She 
would  have  doubted  Beaufort  if  he  had  brought  gifts 
in  his  hand ;  she  did  not  doubt  him  when  he  came  with 
a  knife. 

"  Whose  money  did  you  give  Mr.  Fricker  to  buy  me 
off?"  she  asked.  She  held  out  her  letter  to  Peggy. 

Without  a  word,  beyond  a  word,  Peggy  took  it  and 
read.  Yes,  there  it  was.  No  honor  among  thieves! 
None  between  her  and  Fricker.  Stay,  he  had  said  he 
would  not  tell  Trix;  he  had  never  said  or  written  that 
he  would  not  tell  his  partner,  Beaufort  Chance.  The 

350 


THE    LAST    KICK 

letter  of  the  bond!  And  he  had  professed  to  disap- 
prove of  Shylock!  All  that  she  had  ever  said  about 
his  honorable  dealing,  all  that  handsome  testimonial 
of  hers,  Peggy  took  back  on  the  spot.  Thus  did  the 
whole  of  the  beautiful  scheme  go  awry! 

"Trix,  dearest — "  she  began. 

"My  question,  please/'  said  Trix  Trevalla.  But  she 
had  not  the  control  to  stop  there.  "  All  of  you,  all  of 
you!"  she  broke  out,  passionately.  " Even  you,  Peg- 
gy! Have  I  no  friend  left — nobody  who'll  treat  me 
openly,  not  play  with  me  as  if  I  were  a  child,  and  a 
silly  child?  What  can  I  believe?  Oh,  it's  too  hard 
for  me!"  Again  her  face  sank  between  her  hands; 
again  was  the  awakening  very  bitter  to  her. 

They  sat  silent.  Both  were  loyal ;  both  felt  as  though 
they  were  found  out  in  iniquity. 

"You  did  it?"  asked  Trix,  in  a  dull  voice,  looking 
across  at  Peggy. 

There  was  no  way  out  of  that.  But  where  was  the 
exultation  of  the  achievement,  where  the  glory? 

"Forgive  me,  dear,  forgive  me/'  Peggy  murmured, 
almost  with  a  sob. 

"Your  own  money?" 

"Mine!"  echoed  Peggy,  between  a  sob  and  a  laugh 
now. 

"Whose?"  Trix  asked.  There  was  no  answer.  She 
turned  on  Tommy.  "Whose?"  she  demanded  again. 

They  would  not  answer.  It  was  peine  forte  et  dure; 
they  were  crushed,  but  they  made  no  answer.  Trix 
rose  from  her  chair.  Her  manner  was  tragic,  and  no 
pretence  went  to  give  that  impression. 

"  I — I'm  not  equal  to  it,"  she  declared.  "  It  drives  me 
mad.  But  I  have  one  friend  still.  I'll  go  to  him.  He'll 
find  out  the  truth  for  me  and  tell  it  me.  He'll  make  you 
take  back  your  money  and  give  me  back  my  shares." 

351 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Irresistibly  the  man  of  business  found  voice  in  Tom- 
my Trent.  And  appeal  to  instinct  beats  everything. 

"  Do  you  really  suppose,"  he  asked,  "  that  old  Fricker 
will  disgorge  three  thousand  pounds?" 

"That's  it!"  cried  Trix.  "Look  what  that  makes 
of  me!  And  I  thought — " 

"  It's  past  praying  for  now,  anyhow,"  said  Tommy, 
in  a  sort  of  gloomy  satisfaction.  There  is,  as  often 
observed,  a  comfort  in  knowing  the  worst. 

"I'll  go  to  him,"  said  Trix.  " I  can  trust  him.  He 
wouldn't  betray  me  behind  my  back.  He'll  tell  me 
the  truth  as — as  I  told  it  to  him.  Yes,  I'll  go  to  Mr. 
Newton." 

It  was  odd,  but  neither  of  them  had  anticipated  the 
name.  It  struck  on  them  with  all  the  unexpectedness 
of  farce.  On  a  moment's  reflection  it  had  the  proper 
inevitability  of  tragedy.  Tommy  was  blankly  aghast ; 
he  could  make  nothing  of  it.  In  all  its  mingled  effect, 
the  poignancy  of  its  emotion,  the  ludicrousness  of  its 
coincidences,  the  situation  was  more  than  Peggy  Ryle 
could  bear.  She  fell  to  laughing  feebly,  laughing 
though  miserable  at  heart. 

"Yes,  I'll  go  to  Airey  Newton.  He  won't  laugh  at 
me,  and  he'll  let  me  have  the  truth."  She  turned  on 
them  again.  "I've  treated  some  people  badly;  I've 
never  treated  you  badly,"  she  cried.  "Why  should 
you  play  tricks  on  me?  Why  should  you  laugh? 
And  I  was  ready  to  turn  from  all  the  world  to  you! 
But  now — yes,  I'll  go  to  Airey  Newton." 

Fortune  had  not  done  yet ;  she  had  another  effect  in 
store.  Yet  she  used  no  far-fetched  materials — only  a 
man's  desire  to  see  the  woman  whom  he  had  come  to 
love.  There  was  nothing  extraordinary  about  this. 
The  wonder  would  have  been  had  he  taken  an  hour 
longer  in  coming. 

352 


THE    LAST    KICK 

Peggy  heard  the  step  on  the  stairs ;  the  others  heard 
it  a  second  later.  Again  Tommy  brightened  up  in 
the  hope  of  a  respite — ah,  let  it  be  a  stranger,  some  one 
outside  all  secrets,  whose  presence  would  drive  them 
underground !  Trix's  denunciations  were  stayed.  Did 
she  know  the  step?  Peggy  knew  it.  "You'll  go  to 
her  soon?"  "This  very  night,  my  dear."  The  snatch 
of  talk  came  back  to  her  in  blazing  vividness. 

The  baize  door  swung  to  and  fro.  "  All  right,  Mrs. 
Welling;  I'll  knock,"  came  in  well-known  tones. 

"Why,  it  is  Mr.  Newton!"  cried  Trix,  turning  a 
glance  of  satisfied  anger  on  her  pair  of  miserable  cul- 
prits. 

Tommy  was  paralyzed.  Peggy  rose  and  retreated 
into  a  corner  of  the  room.  A  chair  was  in  her  way; 
she  caught  hold  of  it  and  held  it  in  front  of  her,  seem- 
ing to  make  it  a  barricade.  She  was  very  upset  still, 
but  traitorous  laughter  played  about  the  corners  of 
her  mouth — it  reconnoitred,  seeking  to  make  its  po- 
sition good.  Aggressive  satisfaction  breathed  from 
Trix  Trevalla  as  she  waited  for  the  opening  of  the 
door. 

Airey  put  his  head  inside. 

"Mrs.  Welling  told  me  I  should  find  you/'  he  began; 
for  Trix's  was  the  first  figure  that  he  saw. 

"You  find  us  all,  old  fellow,"  interrupted  Tommy 
Trent,  with  malicious  and  bitter  jocularity. 

At  this  information  Airey 's  face  did  not  glow  with 
pleasure.  Friends  are  friends,  but  sometimes  their 
appropriate  place  is  elsewhere.  He  carried  it  off  well, 
though,  exclaiming: 

"What,  you?    And  Peggy,  too?" 

Trix  had  no  idea  of  allowing  wandering  or  diversions. 

"I  was  just  coming  round  to  Danes  Inn,  Mr. New- 
ton," she  said,  in  a  voice  resolute  but  trembling. 
«  353 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"To  Danes  Inn?"  The  listeners  detected  a  thrill  of 
pleasure  in  his  voice. 

"Yes,  to  see  you.  I  want  your  help.  I  want  you 
to  tell  me  something.  Peggy  here"  —  she  pointed  a 
scornful  finger  at  Peggy  intrenched  in  the  corner  be- 
hind her  chair,  and  looking  as  though  she  thought 
that  personal  violence  was  not  out  of  the  possible  range 
of  events — "Peggy  here  has  been  kind — what  she 
calls  kind,  I  suppose — to  me.  She's  been  to  Mr.  Fricker 
and  paid  him  a  lot  of  money  to  get  me  out  of  Glowing 
Stars — to  persuade  him  to  let  me  out  of  them.  You 
told  me  there  was  some  hope  of  them.  You  were  wrong. 
There  was  none.  But  Peggy  went  and  bought  me  out. 
Mr.  Chance  has  written  and  told  me  so." 

Airey  had  never  got  farther  than  the  threshold.  He 
stood  there  listening. 

Trix  went  on  in  a  level,  hard  voice.  "He  thinks 
Mr.  Trent  found  the  money.  It  was  three  thousand 
pounds — it  might  have  been  four.  I  don't  know  why 
Mr.  Fricker  only  took  three  when  he  might  have  had 
four." 

For  an  instant  Airey  glanced  at  Peggy's  face. 

"But  whether  it  was  three  or  four,  it  couldn't  have 
been  Peggy's  own  money.  I've  asked  Peggy  whose 
it  was.  I've  asked  Mr.  Trent  whether  it  was  his.  1 
can't  get  any  answer  out  of  either  of  them.  They 
both  seem  to  think  there's  no  need  to  answer  me.  They 
both  seem  to  think  that  I've  been  such  a — such  a — 
Oh,  what  shall  I  do?"  She  dropped  suddenly  into  a 
chair  and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

At  last  Airey  Newton  advanced  slowly  towards  her. 

"Come,  come,  Mrs.  Trevalla,"  he  began. 

Trix  raised  her  face  to  his.  "  So,  as  I  had  no  other 
friend — no  other  friend  I  could  trust — and  they  wouldn't 
help  me,  I  was  coming  to  you.  You  won't  forsake 

354 


THE    LAST    KICK 

me?  You'll  tell  me  the  truth?"  Her  voice  rose  strong 
again  for  a  minute.  "  This  is  terribly  hard  to  bear," 
she  said,  "because  I'd  come  to  think  it  was  all  right, 
and  that  I  hadn't  been  a  wretched  dupe.  And  now  I 
have!  And  my  own  dear  friends  have  done  it,  too! 
First  my  enemies,  then  my  friends!" 

Tommy  Trent  cleared  his  throat  and  looked  shame- 
fully indifferent;  but  for  no  apparent  reason  he  stood 
up.  Peggy  sallied  suddenly  from  her  intrenchments, 
ran  to  Trix,  and  fell  on  her  knees  beside  her. 

"Trix,  dear  Trix!"  she  murmured. 

"Yes,  I  dare  say  you  loved  me,  but  it's  too  hard, 
Peggy."  Trix's  voice,  too,  was  hard  and  unforgiving 
still. 

Was  the  position  desperate?  So  far  as  Fortune's 
caprice  went,  so  it  seemed.  Among  the  three  the  se- 
cret was  gone  beyond  recall.  Not  falsehood  the  most 
thorough  nor  pretence  the  most  artistic  would  save  it. 
The  fine  scheme  of  keeping  Trix  in  the  dark  now  and 
telling  her  at  some  future  moment — some  future  mo- 
ment of  idyllic  peace — was  hopelessly  gone.  Now  in 
the  stress  of  the  thing,  in  the  face  of  the  turmoil  of  her 
spirit,  she  must  be  told.  It  was  from  this  that  Tommy 
Trent  had  shrunk — from  this  no  less  than  from  the 
injury  to  his  plighted  word.  At  the  idea  of  this  Peggy 
had  cowered  even  more  than  from  any  superstitious 
awe  of  the  same  obligation  binding  her. 

But  Airey  Newton  did  not  appear  frightened  nor  at 
a  loss.  His  air  was  gentle  but  quite  decided,  his  man- 
ner quiet  but  confident.  A  calm  happiness  seemed 
to  be  about  him.  There  was  subtle  amusement  in  his 
glance  at  his  two  friends ;  the  same  thing  was  not  ab- 
sent from  his  eyes  when  they  turned  to  Trix,  although 
it  was  dominated  by  something  tenderer.  Above  all,  he 
seemed  to  know  what  to  do. 

355 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

Tommy  watched  him  with  surprised  admiration. 
The  gladdest  of  smiles  broke  out  suddenly  on  Peggy's 
face.  She  darted  from  Trix  to  him  and  stood  by  him, 
saying  just  "Airey!" 

He  took  her  hand  for  a  moment  and  patted  it.  "  It's 
all  right,"  said  he. 

Trix's  drooping  head  was  raised  again;  her  eyes, 
too,  were  on  him  now. 

"All  right?"  she  echoed,  in  wondering  tones. 

"Yes,  we  can  put  all  this  straight  directly.     But — " 

There  was  the  first  hint  of  embarrassment  in  his 
manner. 

"But  what?"  asked  Trix. 

He  had  no  chance  to  answer  her.  "Yes,  yes!" 
burst  from  Peggy,  in  triumphant  understanding.  She 
ran  across  to  Tommy  and  caught  him  by  the  arm. 
"There's  only  my  room,  but  that  must  do  for  once," 
she  cried. 

"What?    What  do  you  mean?"  he  inquired. 

"Peggy's  right,"  said  Airey,  smiling.  There  was 
no  doubt  that  he  felt  equal  to  the  situation.  He  seemed 
a  new  man  to  Peggy,  and  her  heart  grew  warm;  even 
Tommy  looked  at  him  with  altered  eyes. 

"The  fact  is,  Tommy,"  said  Airey,  easily,  "I  think  I 
can  explain  this  better  to  Mrs.  Trevalla  if  you  leave 
us  alone." 

Trix's  head  was  raised ;  her  eyes  leaped  to  meet  his. 
She  did  not  understand — her  idea  of  him  was  deep- 
rooted.  It  was  trust  that  her  eyes  spoke,  not  under- 
standing. 

"Leave  us  alone,"  said  Airey  Newton. 

Peggy  becko1-  i  to  Tommy,  and  herself  made  tow- 
ards the  door.  As  she  passed  Airey,  he  smiled  at  her. 
"All  right!"  he  whispered  again. 

Then  Peggy  knew.  She  ran  into  the  passage  and 
356 


THE    LAST    KICK 

thence  to  her  room.  Tommy  followed,  amazed  and 
rather  rueful. 

"We  must  wait  here.  You  may  smoke/'  said  she, 
kindly;  but  she  added,  eagerly,  "And  so  will  I." 

"But,  I  say,  Peggy- 

"  Wasn't  it  just  splendid  that  he  should  come  then?" 

"Capital  for  us.  But  he  did  it,  you  know!"  Tom- 
my's tone  was  awestruck. 

"Why,  of  course  he  did  it,  Tommy." 

"Then,  in  my  opinion,  he's  in  for  a  precious  nasty 
quarter  of  an  hour." 

Peggy  plumped  down  on  the  bed,  and  her  laugh 
rang  out  in  mellow  gentleness  again. 

"Doesn't  it  strike  you  that  she  might  forgive  him 
what  she  wouldn't  forgive  us?"  she  asked. 

"By  Jove!     Because  she's  in  love  with  him?" 

"Oh,  I  suppose  that's  not  a  reason  for  forgiveness 
with  everybody,"  murmured  Peggy,  smoking  hard. 


XXIV 

TO  THE  SOUL  SHOP 

WITH  the  departure  of  the  other  two,  Trix's  tem- 
pestuousness  finally  left  her ;  it  had  worn  itself 
out — and  her.  She  sat  very  quiet,  watching  Airey 
Newton  with  a  look  that  was  saved  from  forlorn  de- 
spair only  by  a  sort  of  appeal;  it  witnessed  to  a  hope 
which  smouldered  still,  and  might  burn  again  if  he 
would  fan  it.  A  sense  of  great  physical  fatigue  was 
on  her;  she  lay  back  in  a  collapse  of  energy,  her  head 
resting  against  the  chair,  her  hands  lying  relaxed  and 
idle  on  the  arms  of  it. 

"What  a  pity  we  can't  leave  it  just  where  it  is!" 
said  Airey,  with  a  compassionate  smile.  "Because 
we  can't  really  put  it  all  straight  to-night ;  that  '11  take 
ever  so  much  longer."  He  sighed,  and  smiled  at  her. 
He  came  and  laid  his  hand  on  one  of  hers.  "If  I've 
got  a  life  worth  living,  it's  through  you,"  he  told  her. 
"You  were  very  angry  with  Tommy  Trent,  who  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  You  were  very,  very  angry 
with  poor  Peggy.  Well,  she  was  partly  responsible; 
I  don't  forget  that.  But  in  the  end  it's  a  thing  between 
you  and  me.  We  haven't  seen  so  very  much  of  each 
other  —  not  if  you  count  by  time,  at  least ;  but  ever 
since  that  night  at  Paris  there  seems  to  have  been 
something  uniting  us.  Things  that  happened  to  you 
affected  me,  and — well,  anyhow,  you  used  to  feel  you 
had  to  come  and  tell  me  about  them." 

358 


TO    THE   SOUL   SHOP 

He  caressed  her  hand  gently,  and  then  walked  away 
to  the  window. 

"Yes,  I  used  to  feel  that,"  said  Trix,  softly.  "I 
came  and  told  you  even — even  bad  things/' 

"You  chose  your  mam  well,"  he  went  on.  "Better 
than  you  knew.  If  you  had  known,  it  wouldn't  have 
been  fair  to  choose  a  confessor  so  much  worse  than 
yourself.  But  you  didn't  know.  I  believe  you  thought 
quite  highly  of  me!"  There  was  no  bitterness  about 
him,  rather  a  tone  of  exultation,  almost  of  amusement. 
He  took  hold  of  a  chair,  brought  it  nearer  to  her,  and 
rested  his  knee  on  it.  "  There  was  a  man  who  loved  a 
woman  and  knew  that  she  was  ruined.  There  was  no 
doubt  about  it.  A  friend  told  him ;  the  woman  herself 
told  him.  The  friend  said,  'You  can  help/  The 
woman  he  loved  said,  'Nobody  can  help/  He  could 
help,  but  even  still  he  wouldn't.  The  friend  said, 
'  You  can  give  her  back  life  and  her  care  about  living. ' 
She  said,  '  I  have  no  joy  now  in  living ' — her  eyes  said 
that  to  him.  Come,  guess  what  his  answer  was !  Can 
you  guess?  No,  by  Heaven,  nobody  in  the  world 
could  guess!  He  answered,  'Yes,  perhaps,  but  it 
would  cost  too  much." 

For  an  instant  she  glanced  at  his  face;  she  found 
him  smiling  still. 

"That's  what  he  said,"  Airey  pursued,  in  a  tone  of 
cheerful  sarcasm.  "  The  fellow  said  it  would  cost  too 
much.  Prudent  man,  wasn't  he?  Careful  and  cir- 
cumspect, setting  a  capital  example  to  the  thriftless 
folk  we  see  all  about  us.  It  was  suggested  to  him — 
oh,  very  delicately! — that  it  was  hardly  the  occasion 
to  count  pennies.  Then  he  got  as  far  as  asking  that 
the  thing  should  be  reduced  to  figures.  The  figures 
appalled  him!"  A  dry  chuckle  made  her  look  again; 
she  smiled  faintly,  in  sympathy,  not  in  understanding. 

359 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"Remarkable  fellow,  wasn't  he?  And  the  best  of 
it  was  that  the  woman  he  loved  was  so  cut  up  about 
being  ruined  and  not  having  made  a  success  of  it  alto- 
gether that  she  thought  it  very  condescending  and  no- 
ble of  him  to  show  any  concern  about  her  or  to  trouble 
to  give  her  advice.  Now  this  man  was  always  most 
ready  to  give  advice;  all  his  friends  relied  on  him 
for  that.  As  far  as  advice  went,  he  was  one  of  the 
most  generous  men  in  England.  Well,  there  she  lay 
— in  the  dust,  as  somebody  put  it  to  him.  But,  as  I 
say,  when  it  came  to  figures,  the  cost  of  raising  her 
was  enormous.  Are  you  feeling  an  admiration  for 
this  hero?  Don't  you  think  that  the  worst,  the  fool- 
ishest  woman  on  earth  would  have  been  a  bit  too 
good  for  him?  This  little  trouble  of  his  about  figures 
he  had  once  described  as  a  propensity." 

She  leaned  forward  suddenly  and  looked  hard  at 
him.  He  saw  her  breath  come  more  quickly. 

Airey  pulled  his  beard  and  continued,  smiling  still : 
"That  was  the  position.  Then  a  girl  came  to  him,  a 
very  dangerous  girl  in  my  opinion,  one  who  goes  about 
sowing  love  all  over  the  place  in  an  indiscriminate  and 
hazardous  fashion — she  carries  it  about  her  every- 
where, from  her  shoes  to  the  waves  of  her  hair.  She 
came  to  him  and  said,  'Well,  you're  a  pretty  fellow, 
aren't  you?  I've  got  twopence  that  I'm  going  to  give. 
We  want  tenpence.  Out  with  eightpence,  please,' 
said  she.  'Why  so?'  he  asked,  with  his  hand  tight  on 
the  eightpence.  'She's  got  ruined  just  on  purpose  to 
give  you  the  chance,'  said  she.  That  was  rather  a 
new  point  of  view  to  him,  but  she  said  it  no  less." 

"Tell  it  me  plainly,"  Trix  implored. 

"I'm  telling  it  quite  plainly,"  Airey  insisted.  "At 
last  he  forked  out  the  tenpence — and  sat  down  and 
groaned  and  cried.  Lord,  how  he  cried  over  that 

360 


TO    THE   SOUL   SHOP 

tenpence !  Till  one  day  the  girl  came  back  again 
and—" 

"I  thought  she  only  asked  for  eightpence?"  put  in 
Trix,  with  a  swift  glance. 

"Did  I  say  that?  Oh,  well,  that's  not  material. 
She  came  back,  and  laid  twopence  on  the  table,  and 
said  eightpence  had  been  enough.  He  was  just  going 
to  grab  the  twopence  and  put  it  back  in  his  pocket 
again,  when  she  said, '  Wouldn't  it  be  nice  to  spend  it?' 
'Spend  it?  What  on?'  he  cried.  'A  new  soul/  said 
she,  in  that  wholesale,  reckless  way  of  hers.  'If  you 
get  a  new  soul,  she  may  like  you.  You  can't  suppose 
she'd  like  you  with  the  one  you've  got?'  She  could 
be  candid  at  times,  that  girl — oh,  all  in  a  very  delicate 
way!  So  they  went  out  together  in  a  hansom  cab, 
and  drove  to  the  soul  shop  and  bought  one.  There's 
a  ready-made  soul  shop,  if  you  know  where  to  find  it. 
It's  dearer  than  the  others,  but  they  don't  keep  you 
waiting,  and  you  can  leave  the  worn-out  article  behind 
you." 

"Well?" 

"He  liked  the  feel  of  the  new  soul,  and  began  to 
thank  the  girl  for  it.  And  she  said,  '  Don't  thank  me. 
I  didn't  do  it. '  So  he  thanked  her  just  a  little ;  but  the 
rest  of  his  thanks  he  kept." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Trix  gazed  before  her 
with  wide-open  eyes.  Airey  tilted  his  chair  gently  to 
and  fro. 

"  You  paid  the  money  for  me?"  she  asked,  at  last,  in 
a  dull  voice. 

"  I  gave  it  and  Peggy  took  it.     We  did  it  between  us. " 

"Was  it  all  yours  or  any  of  hers?" 

"It  was  all  mine.  In  the  end  I  had  that  decency 
about  me."  He  went  on,  with  a  touch  of  eagerness: 
"But  it  wasn't  giving  the  money;  any  churl  must 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

have  done  that.  It's  that  now — to-day — I  rejoice  in 
it.  I  thank  God  the  money's  gone.  And  when  some 
came  back  I  wouldn't  have  it.  Ah,  there  was  the  last 
tug — it  was  so  easy  to  take  it  back !  But  no,  we  went 
out  and  wasted  it!"  He  gave  a  low,  delighted  laugh. 
"By  Jove,  how  we  wasted  it!"  he  repeated,  with  a 
relish. 

"Of  all  people  in  the  world  I  never  thought  of  you." 

"What  I  called  my  life  was  half  spent  in  making  it 
impossible  that  you  should." 

"  Where  did  you  get  the  money  from?" 

The  last  touch  of  his  old  shame,  the  last  remnant 
of  his  old  secret  triumph,  showed  in  his  face. 

"I  had  five  or  six  times  as  much — there  in  the  safe 
at  Danes  Inn.  It  lay  there  accumulating,  accumu- 
lating, accumulating.  That  was  my  delight." 

"You  were  rich?" 

"I  had  made  a  good  income  for  five  or  six  years. 
You  know  what  I  spent.  Will  you  give  a  name  to  what 
was  my  propensity?"  For  an  instant  he  was  bitter. 
The  mood  passed ;  he  laughed  again. 

"You  must  have  been  very  miserable?"  she  con- 
cluded. 

"Worse  than  that.  I  was  rather  happy.  Happy, 
but  afraid.  A  week  ago  I  should  have  fled  to  the  ends 
of  the  earth  sooner  than  tell  you.  I  couldn't  have 
borne  to  be  found  out." 

"I  know,  I  know,"  she  cried,  in  quick  understand- 
ing. "I  felt  that  at — "  She  stopped  in  embarrass- 
ment. Airey's  nod  saved  her  the  rest. 

"  But  now  I  can  talk  of  it.  I  don't  mind  now.  I'm 
free."  He  broke  into  open  laughter.  "I've  spent  a 
thousand  pounds  to-day.  It  sounds  too  deliciously 
impossible." 

She  gave  a  passing  smile ;  she  had  not  seen  the  thing 

362 


TO    THE    SOUL    SHOP 

done,  and  hardly  appreciated  it.     Her  mind  flew  back 
to  herself  again. 

"And  you  bought  Mr.  Flicker  off?  You  ransomed 
me?" 

"You  were  angry  with  Tommy,  you  were  angry 
with  Peggy" — he  turned  his  chair  round  suddenly 
and  rested  his  hands  on  the  back  of  it — "  are  you  angry 
with  me?" 

She  made  a  gesture  of  petulant  protest.  "It  leaves 
me  a  helpless  fool  again,"  she  murmured. 

"It  was  the  price  of  my  liberty  more  than  of  yours. 
I  had  a  right — a  right — to  pay  it.  Won't  you  come  to 
the  soul  shop,  too?  I've  been  there  now;  I  can  show 
you  the  way.  There  was  my  life — and  yours.  What 
was  I  to  do?" 

"You  meant  to  deceive  me?" 

"Yes."  He  paused  an  instant.  " Unless  there  ever 
came  a  time  when  you  would  like  to  be  undeceived — 
when  it  might  seem  better  to  have  been  helped  than 
not  to  have  needed  help.  Well,  Beaufort  Chance  upset 
that  scheme.  Here  we  are,  face  to  face  with  the  truth. 
We've  not  been  that  before.  How  we  made  pretence 
with  each  other!"  He  shook  his  head  in  half-humor- 
ous reprobation.  She  saw  with  wonder  how  little  un- 
happy he  was  about  it  all,  how  it  all  seemed  to  him  a 
bygone  thing,  a  strange  dream  that  might  retain  its 
meaning  and  its  interest  but  ceased  to  have  living  im- 
portance the  moment  dawning  day  put  it  to  flight. 

"  You  told  me  you  weren't  cured,"  he  went  on.  "  That 
you  still  wanted  the  old  life,  the  old  ambition — that 
my  advice  still  appealed  to  you.  That  fatal  advice  of 
mine!  It  did  half  the  mischief.  Don't  you  see  my 
right  to  pay  the  money  in  that  again?  Still,  I  tell 
you,  I  didn't  pay  it  for  you;  I  paid  it  for  myself." 

"I  can  give  you  no  return  for  it." 
363 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"I  ask  none.  The  return  I  have  got  I've  told  you. 
I  am  free."  He  loved  the  thought;  again  it  brought  a 
smile  to  his  lips.  "There's  no  question  of  a  return 
from  you  to  me." 

"Yes,  but  I  shall  owe  you  everything,"  she  cried. 
"The  very  means  of  living  decently!"  Her  pride  was 
in  arms  again  as  the  truth  came  back  to  her. 

"  Then  sell  all  you  have  and  repay  me  the  money," 
he  suggested.  "  Say  I'm  Fricker.  There'll  be  no- 
body to  buy  me  off,  as  Peggy  and  I  bought  Frick- 
er off." 

"What?"  she  exclaimed,  startled  into  betraying  her 
surprise. 

"Pay  it  back/'  he  cried,  gayly.  "Pay  it  all  back. 
I'll  take  it.  I'm  not  afraid  of  money  now.  It  might 
come  rolling  into  Danes  Inn — in  barrels!  Like  beer- 
casks!  And  a  couple  of  draymen  hard  on  the  rope! 
I  shouldn't  so  much  as  turn  round.  I  shouldn't  count 
the  barrels — I  should  go  on  counting  the  sparrows  on 
the  roof.  I've  not  the  least  objection  to  be  repaid." 

She  fell  into  silence.  Airey  began  strolling  about 
the  room  again;  he  smoked  a  cigarette  while  she  sat 
without  speaking,  with  her  brows  knit  and  her  hands 
now  clinching  the  arms  of  her  chair.  Suddenly  she 
broke  out  in  a  new  protest. 

"Oh,  that's  not  it,  that's  not  it!  Paying  the  money 
back  wouldn't  cure  it.  As  far  as  that  goes,  I  could 
have  paid  Fricker  myself.  It's  the  failure.  It's  the 
failure  and  the  shame.  Nothing  can  cure  that." 

"Think  of  my  failure,  think  of  my  shame!  Worse 
than  yours!  You  only  set  about  living  a  little  bit  in 
the  wrong  way.  I  never  set  about  living  at  all!  I 
shut  out  at  least  a  half  of  life.  I  refused  it.  Isn't  that 
the  great  refusal?" 

"You  had  your  work.     You  worked  well." 
364 


TO    THE   SOUL   SHOP 

"  Yes,  I  did  do  that.  Well,  shall  we  give  that  half? 
I  had  half  a  life  then." 

"And  what  had  I?" 

"  At  least  that.    More,  I  think,  in  spite  of  everything. " 

"And  you  can  forget  the  failure  and  the  shame?" 

"I  can  almost  laugh  at  them." 

She  held  out  her  hands  to  him,  crying  again  for  help  • 
"How?  How?" 

A  low  sound  of  singing  came  through  the  door. 
Peggy  beguiled  the  vigil  with  a  song.  Airey  held  up 
his  hand  for  silence.  Trix  listened;  the  tears  gath- 
ered in  her  eyes. 

"Does  that  say  nothing  to  you?"  he  asked,  as  the 
song  died  away.  "  Does  that  give  you  no  hint  of  our 
mistake?  No  clew  to  where  the  rest  of  life  lies?  Life 
isn't  taking  in  only,  it's  giving  out  too.  And  it's  not 
givingjjut  only  work  or  deeds  or  things  we've  made. 
It's  giving  ourselves  out  too — freely,  freely!" 

"Giving  ourselves  out?" 

"Yes,  to  other  people.  Giving  ourselves  in  com- 
radeship, in  understanding,  in  joy,  in  love.  Oh,  good 
Lord,  fancy  not  having  found  that  out  before!  What 
a  roundabout  road  to  find  it!  Hedges  and  briers  and 
bleeding  shins!"  He  laughed  gently.  "But  she 
knows  it,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  door.  "She  goes 
on  the  royal  road  to  it — straight  on  the  King's  high- 
way. She  goes  blindfold,  too,  which  is  a  funny  thing. 
She  couldn't  even  tell  you  where  she  was  going." 

Another  snatch  of  song  came.  It  was  sentimental 
in  character,  but  it  ended  abruptly  in  uncontrolled 
gurgles  of  a  mirth  free  from  all  such  weakness. 

"Yes,  she  gets  there,  dainty,  trim,  serene!" 

He  shook  his  head,  smiling  with  an  infinite  affec- 
tion. Trix  Trevalla  leaned  her  head  on  her  hand  and 
regarded  him  with  searching  eyes. 

365 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

"Yes,  that's  true  of  her,"  she  said,  "that's  true. 
You've  found  out  the  meaning  of  it." 

"Everything's  so  plain  to  find  out  to-day." 

"  Then  surely  you  must  be  in  love  with  her?"  Her 
eyes  were  grave  and  curious  still.  ' '  How  can  you 
help  it?  She  mayn't  love  you,  but  that  makes  no  dif- 
ference. How  can  you  help  loving  her?" 

"Does  it  make  no  difference?  I  don't  know."  He 
came  across  to  Trix.  "We've  travelled  the  bad  road 
together,  you  and  I,"  he  said,  softly.  "I  may  have 
seen  her  far  off — against  the  sky — and  steered  a  course 
by  hers.  The  course  isn't  everything.  But  for  your 
arm  I  should  have  fallen  by  the  way.  And — should 
you  never  have  fallen  if  you'd  been  quite  alone?  Or 
did  you  fall  and  need  to  be  picked  up  again?" 

He  took  both  her  hands  and  she  let  them  lie  in  his ; 
but  she  still  looked  at  him  in  fear  and  doubt,  unable  to 
rise  to  his  serenity,  unable  to  put  the  past  behind  her 
as  he  did.  The  spectres  rose  and  seemed  to  bar  the 
path,  crying  to  her  that  she  had  no  right  to  tread  it. 

"I've  grown  so  hard,  I've  been  so  hard.  Can  I  for- 
get what  I've  been  and  what  I've  done?  Sha'n't  I 
always  hear  them  accusing  me?  Can  I  trust  myself 
not  to  want  to  go  back  again?  It  seems  to  me  that 
I've  lost  the  power  of  doing  what  you  say." 

"Never,"  said  Airey,  confidently.  "Never!"  His 
smile  broke  out  again.  "Well,  certainly  not  your 
side  of  thirty,"  he  amended,  trying  to  make  her 
laugh. 

"Oh,  ask  Mrs.  Bonfill  or  Lord  Mervyn  or  Beaufort 
Chance  of  me!" 

"  They'd  all  tell  me  the  truth  of  what  they  know,  I 
don't  doubt  it." 

"  And  you  know  it,  too ! "  she  cried,  in  a  sort  of  shrink- 
ing wonder. 

366 


TO    THE    SOUL    SHOP 

"To  be  sure  I  know  it,"  he  agreed,  cheerfully. 
"Wasn't  I  walking  beside  you  all  the  way?" 

"Tell  me,"  she  said.  "If  you'd  really  been  a  very 
poor  man,  as  we  all  believed  you  were,  would  you  ever 
have  thought  it  wise  or  possible  to  marry  a  woman 
like  me?" 

She  had  an  eye  for  a  searching  question.  Airey 
perceived  that. 

"  Most  pertinent,  if  I  were  poor !  But  now  you  .see 
I'm  not.  I'm  well  off — and  I'm  a  prodigal." 

"Ah,  you  know  the  truth,  you  never  would!" 

"I  can't  know  the  truth.  I  shall  find  it  out  only  if 
you  marry  me  now." 

"  Suppose  I  said  yes  ?  I  said  yes  to  Mortimer  Mer vyn  1 ' ' 
\"And  you  ran  away  because — " 

"  Because  I  told  him — " 

"  Let  me  put  it  in  my  way,  please,"  interrupted  Airey, 
suavely  but  decisively.  "  Because  you  weren't  a  per- 
fect individual,  and  he  was  a  difficult  person  to  explain 
that  to.  Isn't  that  about  it?" 

Trix  made  a  woful  gesture;  that  was  rather  less 
than  it,  she  thought. 

"And  what  did  he  do?  Did  he  come  after  you?  Did 
he  say,  '  The  woman  I  love  is  in  trouble;  she's  ruined; 
she's  so  ashamed  that  she  couldn't  tell  the  truth  even 
to  me.  Even  from  me  she  has  fled,  because  she  has 
become  unbearable  to  herself  and  is  terrified  of  me.' 
Did  he  say  that?  And  did  he  put  his  traps  in  a  bag 
and  take  a  special  train  and  come  after  you?" 

Trix's  lips  curved  in  an  irrepressible  smile  at  this 
picture  of  a  line  of  conduct  imputed,  even  hypotheti- 
cally,  to  the  Under-Secretary  for  War.  "  He  didn't  do 
exactly  that,"  she  murmured. 

"Not  hel  He  said,  'She's  come  a  cropper — that's 
her  lookout.  But  people  who  come  croppers  won't  do 

367 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

for  me.  No  croppers  in  the  Barmouth  family!  We 
don't  like  them;  we  aren't  accustomed  to  them  in  the 
Barmouth  family.  I've  my  career/  he  said.  'That's 
more  to  me  than  she  is."  Airey  paused  a  moment 
and  held  up  an  emphatic  finger.  "In  point  of  fact, 
that  miserable  man,  Mervyn,  behaved  exactly  as  I 
should  have  done  a  fortnight  ago.  Substitute  his 
prejudices  and  his  career  for  my  safe  and  my  money, 
and  he  and  I  would  be  exactly  the  same — I  mean,  a 
fortnight  ago.  If  ever  a  man  lost  a  woman  by  his 
own  act,  Mervyn  is  the  man!" 

"So  if  I  say  yes  to  you,  and  run  away — " 

)"The  earth  isn't  big  enough  to  hide  you,  nor  the 
railway  fares  big  enough  to  stop  me." 

"And  Beaufort  Chance?"  she  murmured,  trying  him 
again. 

"Men  who  buy  love  get  the  sort  of  love  that's  for 
sale,"  he  answered,  in  brief  contempt. 

She  smiled  as,  leaning  forward,  she  put  her  last 
question. 

"And  Mr.  Fricker?"  said  she. 

Airey  gave  a  tug  at  his  beard  and  a  puzzled,  whim- 
sical glance  at  her. 

"Do  you  press  me  as  to  that?" 

"Yes,  of  course  I  do.     What  about  Mr.  Fricker?" 

"  Well,  from  all  I  can  learn,  it  does  appear  to  me  that 
you  behaved  in  a  damned  shabby  way  to  Fricker. 
I've  not  a  word  to  say  for  you  there,  not  one." 

The  answer  was  so  unexpected,  so  true,  so  honest, 
that  Trix's  laughter  rang  out  in  genuine  merriment 
for  the  first  time  for  many  days. 

"  And  when  old  Fricker  saw  his  chance,  I  don't  won- 
der that  he  gave  you  a  nasty  dig.  It  was  pure  busi- 
ness with  Fricker — and  vou  went  back  on  him  all  along 
the  line!" 

368 


TO   THE   SOUL   SHOP 

She  looked  at  him  with  eyes  still  newly  mirthful. 
He  had  dismissed  Mervyn  and  Beaufort  Chance  con- 
temptuously enough;  one  had  sought  to  barter  where 
no  barter  should  be;  the  other  had  lost  his  prize  because 
he  did  not  know  how  to  value  it.  But  when  Airey 
spoke  of  Pricker's  wrongs,  there  was  real  and  con- 
vinced indignation  in  his  voice;  in  Pricker's  interest 
he  did  not  spare  the  woman  he  loved. 

"How  funny!"  .she  said.  "I've  never  felt  very 
guilty  about  Mr.  Pricker." 

"  You  ought  to.  That  was  worst  of  all,  in  my  opin- 
ion/' he  insisted. 

"Well,  I  was  afraid  you'd  quite  acquitted  me! 
Should  you  be  always  throwing  Mr.  Pricker  in  my 
face?" 

"  On  occasions,  probably.  I  can't  resist  a  good  ar- 
gumentative point.  You've  got  the  safe  and  the  red 
book,  you  know." 

"I'd  sooner  die  than  remind  you  of  them." 

"Nonsense!     I  sha'n't  care  in  the  least,"  said  Airey. 

"Then  what  will  be  the  good  of  them  to  me?"  He 
laughed.  But  she  grew  serious,  saying,  "  I  shall  care 
about  Mr.  Pricker,  though." 

"Then  don't  ask  me  what  I  think  again." 

He  laughed,  took  a  turn  the  length  of  the  room,  and 
came  quickly  and  suddenly  back  to  her. 

"Well,  is  the  unforgivable  forgiven?"  he  asked, 
standing  opposite  to  her. 

"The  unforgivable?  What  do  you  mean?"  she 
asked,  with  a  little  start  of  surprise.  He  had  struck 
sharply  across  her  current  of  thought. 

"  What  you  couldn't  have  forgiven  Tommy  or  Peggy 
or  anybody?  What  you  couldn't  possibly  forgive  me? 
You  know."  His  smile  mocked  her.  "My  having 
sent  the  money  to  Pricker." 

»4  369 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"Oh,  I'd  forgotten  all  about  it!" 

"Things  forgotten  are  things  forgiven — and  the 
other  way  round,  too.  Forgiving,  but  not  forgetting 
— don't  you  recognize  the  twang  of  hard-hearted  right- 
eousness?" He  came  up  to  her.  "It  was  very  un- 
forgivable— and  you  forgot  it.  Haven't  you  stumbled 
on  the  right  principle,  Trix?" 

She  did  not  rise  to  any  philosophic  or  general  prin- 
ciple. She  followed  her  feeling  and  gave  it  expression 
— or  a  hint  of  expression,  her  eyes  being  left  to  fill  in 
the  context. 

"Somehow  it's  not  so  bad,  coming  from  you,"  she 
said. 

In  an  instant  he  was  sitting  by  her.  "  Now  I'll  tell 
you  what  we  did  this  afternoon." 

"You  and  Peggy  Ryle?  I'm  jealous  of  Peggy 
Ryle!" 

"A  sound  instinct,  in  this  case  misapplied,"  com- 
mented Airey.  "Now  just  you  listen." 

The  sound  of  song  had  ceased.  Were  all  sounds 
equally  able  to  penetrate  doors  and  cross  passages, 
quite  another  would  have  struck  on  Trix's  ears.  Peggy 
was  yawning  vigorously,  while  Tommy  was  trying  to 
find  patience  in  a  cigar. 

"Where  had  you  been  going  to  dine?"  asked  Peggy, 
referring  to  the  meal  as  a  bright  but  bygone  possi- 
bility. 

"1  had  been  going  to  have  a  chop  at  the  club/'  mur- 
mured Tommy,  sadly. 

"That  doesn't  help  me  much,"  observed  Peggy. 
"And  I  suppose  you're  going  to  begin  about  that 
wretched  promise  again?  I'm  tired  to  death,  but  111 
sing  again  if  you  do." 

"I've  expressed  my  sentiments.  I  don't  want  to 
rub  it  in." 

370 


TO    THE   SOUL   SHOP 

"If  Airey  hadn't  come,  you'd  have  done  just  the 
same  yourself." 

"No,  I  shouldn't,  Peggy." 

"What  would  you  have  done,  then?" 

"I  should  have  bolted  and  dined.  And  I  rather 
wish  I  had.  I  tell  you  what;  if  I  were  you,  I'd  have 
one  comfortable  chair  in  this  room."  He  was  perched 
on  a  straight-backed  affair  with  spindly  legs — a  base 
imitation  of  what  (from  the  sitter's  point  of  view)  was 
always  an  unfortunate  ideal. 

"  I'd  bolt  with  you — for  the  sake  of  dinner,"  moaned 
Peggj^.  "  What  are  they  doing  all  this  time,  Tommy?" 

Tommy  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  undisguised  con- 
tempt. "Couldn't  we  go  and  dine?"  he  suggested, 
with  a  gleam  of  hope. 

"I  want  to  dine  very,  very  much,"  avowed  Peggy; 
"but  I'm  too  excited."  She  looked  straight  at  him, 
pointed  towards  the  door,  and  declared,  "I'm  going 
in." 

"You'd    better  knock  something  over  first." 

"No,  I'm  going  straight  in.  If  it's  all  right,  it  won't 
matter,  and  we  can  all  go  to  dinner  together.  If  they're 
being  silly,  I  shall  stop  them.  I'm  going  in,  Tommy!" 

Tommy  rose  from  the  spindle-shanked  counterfeit 
with  a  determined  air. 

"  You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  It  isn't  fair  play," 
he  said. 

"It's  not  you  that's  going  in,  is  it?"  asked  Peggy, 
as  though  that  disposed  of  his  claim  to  interfere. 
"  And  you  needn't  tell  me  I'm  dishonorable  any  more. 
It's  dull.  I'm  going." 

In  fact  she  had  got  to  the  handle  of  the  door.  She 
had  grasped  it  when  Tommy  came  and  took  hold  of 
her  arm. 

"No,  you  don't!"  he  said. 
371 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

For  an  instant  Peggy  thought  she  would  take  of- 
fence. Tommy's  rigidity  of  moral  principle,  within 
the  limits  of  his  vision,  proved,  however,  too  much  for 
her.  She  still  held  the  handle,  but  she  leaned  against 
the  door,  laughing  as  she  looked  up  in  his  face. 

"Let  go,  Tommy!     In  short,  unhand  me!" 

"Will  you  go,  if  1  do?" 

"That's  what  I  want  you  to  do  it  for,"  Peggy  ex- 
plained, with  a  rapid  and  pronounced  gravity. 

Her  eyes  sparkled  at  him,  her  lips  were  mischievous, 
the  waves  of  her  hair  seemed  dowered  with  new  grace. 
Perhaps  there  was  something,  too,  in  the  general  at- 
mosphere of  the  flat  that  night.  Anyhow,  the  thought 
of  vindicating  moral  principles  and  the  code  of  honor 
lost  the  first  place  in  Tommy's  thoughts.  Yet  he  did 
not  let  go  of  his  prisoner. 

With  the  change  in  his  thoughts — did  it  betray  itself 
on  his  face? — came  a  change  in  Peggy  also.  She  was 
still  gayly  defiant,  but  she  looked  rather  on  the  de- 
fensive, too.  A  touch  of  timidity  mingled  with  the 
challenge  that  her  eyes  still  directed  at  him. 

"  It's  not  the  least  good  lecturing  you,"  he  declared. 

"  I  don't  know  how  you  ever  came  to  think  you  knew 
how  to  do  it." 

"Peggy,  am  I  never  to  get  any  forwarder?" 

"Not  much,  I  hope,"  answered  Peggy,  with  a  stifled 
laugh. 

He  looked  at  her  steadily  for  a  minute. 

"You  like  me,"  he  said.  "If  you  hadn't  liked  me, 
I  should  have  been  kicked  out  by  now." 

"I  call  that  taking  a  very  unfair  advantage,"  mur- 
mured Peggy. 

"  Because  you're  not  the  sort  of  girl  to  let  a  man — " 

"Then  why  don't  you  let  go  of  my  arm?" 

This  was  glaringly  illogical.  It  seized  Tommy's 

372 


premise  and  twisted  it  to  an  absolutely  opposite  con- 
clusion. But  Tommy  was  bewildered  by  the  mental 
gymnastics — or  by  something  else  that  dazzled  him. 
He  released  her  arm  and  stepped  back  almost  ceremoni- 
ously. Peggy  lifted  her  arm  and  seemed  to  study  it 
for  a  second. 

"  That's  nice  of  you,"  she  said.  "  But  "—her  laugh 
rang  out — "I'm  going  all  the  same!" 

In  an  instant  she  had  darted  through  the  door.  Tom- 
nry  made  as  though  he  would  follow,  but  paused  on 
the  threshold  and  pulled  the  door  close  again.  Per- 
haps she  could  carry  it  off;  he  could  not.  He  walked 
slowly  back  to  the  spindle-shanked  chair  and  sat  down 
again.  Tommy's  head  was  rather  in  a  whirl,  but  his 
heart  beat  gayly.  "By  Jove — yes!"  he  thought  to 
himself.  "Give  her  time,  and  it's  yes!" 

Peggy/  unrepentant,  strode  across  the  passage  and 
stopped  outside  the  sitting-room.  Human  nature  would 
not  stand  it.  She  must  listen  or  go  in.  She  did  not 
hesitate;  in  she  went. 

Airey  \vas  standing  by  the  window;  she  saw  but 
hardly  noticed  him.  In  the  middle  of  the  room  was 
Trix  Trevalla.  But  what  a  Trix!  Peggy  stood  mo- 
tionless a  minute  at  the  sight  of  her.  Her  quick  eye 
took  in  the  ring  on  Trix's  finger,  the  sparkle  of  the 
diamonds  on  her  wrist,  the  softer  lustre  of  the  pearls 
about  her  neck.  The  plain  gown  she  wore  showed 
them  off  bravely,  and  she  seemed  as  though  she  were 
hung  with  jewels.  Peggy  recognized  the  jewels;  the 
small  boxes  she  knew  also,  and  marked  where  they 
lay  on  the  table.  All  that  was  the  work  of  an  instant. 
Her  eyes  returned  to  Trix  and  rose  above  the  pearls  to 
Trix's  face.  The  hardness  and  the  haggardness,  the 
weariness  and  shame,  all  suspicion  and  all  reserve, 
were  gone  from  it.  The  face  was  younger,  softer;  it 

373 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

seemed  rounder  and  more  girlish.     The  eyes  glowed 
with  a  veiled  brightness. 

Peggy  stood  there  on  the  threshold,  looking. 

At  last  Airey  spoke  to  her;  for  Trix,  though  she 
met  her  eyes,  said  nothing  and  did  not  move  from  her 
place. 

"  Peggy,"  he  said,  "  she's  been  with  me.  She's  been 
where  we  wrent  this  afternoon.  You  know  the  way; 
you  showed  it  to  me." 

Now  Trix  Trevalla  came  towards  her,  a  little  blindly 
and  unsteadily  as  it  seemed.  She  held  out  both  hands, 
and  Peggy  went  forward  a  step  to  meet  them. 

"Yes,  I've  been.  I  think  I've  been  to — to  the  soul 
shop,  Peggy."  She  threw  herself  in  the  girl's  arms. 

"Is  it — is  it  all  right?"  gasped  Peggy. 

"It's  going  to  be,"  said  Airey  Newton. 

She  put  Trix  at  arm's -length  and  gazed  at  her. 
"  They  look  beautiful,  and  you  look  beautiful.  1  won- 
der if  you've  ever  looked  like  that  before!" 

"It's  all  gone,"  said  Trix,  passing  her  hand  across 
her  eyes.  "All  gone,  I  think,  Peggy." 

"Oh,  I  can't  stay  here!"  cried  Peggy,  in  dismay. 
For  her  eyes,  too,  grew  dim ;  and  now  she  could  no  more 
have  sung  than  yawned.  She  caught  Trix  to  her, 
kissed  her,  and  ran  from  the  room. 

"I  beg  your  pardon;  you  were  quite  right,  sir,"  she 
said  to  Tommy.  "I  never  ought  to  have  gone  in." 

"  But,  I  say,  what's  happened,  Peggy?"  Of  another's 
sin  it  seems  no  such  great  crime  to  take  advantage. 

"Everything,"  said  Peggy,  with  a  comprehensive 
wave  of  her  arms.  "Everything,  Tommy!" 

"They've  fixed  it  up?"  he  asked,  eagerly. 

"  If  you  don't  feel  disgraced  by  putting  it  like  that 
— they  have,"  said  Peggy,  breaking  into  glad  laughter 
again. 

374 


TO    THE   SOUL   SHOP 

He  rose  and  came  near  to  her. 

"And  what  are  we  going  to  do?"  he  inquired. 

Peggy  regarded  him  with  eyes  professedly  judicial, 
though  mischief  and  mockery  lurked  in  them. 

"  As  I  don't  think  it's  the  least  use  waiting  for  them, 
I  suggest  that  we  go  and  have  some  dinner, "she  said. 

"That's  not  a  bad  idea,"  agreed  Tommy. 

He  turned  quietly,  took  up  his  hat  and  stick,  and 
went  out  into  the  passage;  Peggy  stayed  a  minute  to 
put  on  a  hat  and  jacket.  She  came  out  to  join  him 
then,  treading  softly  and  with  her  finger  on  her  lips. 
Tommy  nodded  understanding,  took  hold  of  the  handle 
of  the  baize  door,  and  made  way  for  her  to  pass.  His 
air  was  decorous  and  friendly.  Peggy  looked  at  him, 
immeasurable  amusement  nestling  in  her  eyes.  As 
she  passed,  she  flung  one  arm  lightly  about  his  neck 
and  kissed  him. 

"Just  to  celebrate  the  event!"  she  whispered. 

Tommy  followed  her  down-stairs  with  heart  aglow. 


XXV 

RECONCILIATION 

"  BARSLETT,  September  lyth. 

Y  DEAREST  SARAH,— I  know  how  much  you  value 
my  letters.  I  know  more — how  valuable  my  letters 
are  to  you.  Only  by  letter  (as  I've  mentioned  before) 
can  I  come  near  telling  you  the  truth.  In  your  presence,  no! 
For  aren't  you,  your  dear  old  stately  self,  in  the  end,  a — (so 
glad  there  are  hundreds  of  miles  between  us!) — a  splendid 
semi-mendacity  ? 

"  I  have  just  answered  Trix's  brief  note.  Here  I  wrote 
just  as  I  should  have  spoken :  '  I'm  sure  you'll  be  so  happy, 
dear/  above  my  breath ;  '  Why,  in  Heaven's  name,  does  she 
do  it?'  under  the  same.  Trix  was  curt.  She  marries  '  Airey 
Newton,  the  well-known  inventor!'  Little  Peggy  was  rather 
more  communicative;  but  Peggy  is  an  enthusiast,  and  (pol- 
itics apart)  I  see  no  use  for  the  quality.  '  The  well-known 
inventor!'  I  never  heard  of  the  man.  Ca  n'empeche  pas,  by 
all  means.  Shall  we  say  '  Like  to  like?'  Trix  was  rather  a 
well-known  inventor  in  her  day  and  season — which  is  the 
one  from  which  we  are  all  precariously  recovering.  (How's 
the  marital  liver?)  I  wonder  if  we've  got  to  say  '  Like  to 
like  '  in  any  other  way,  Sarah?  You  are  no  philosopher. 
You  abound  in  general  rules,  but  haven't  a  shred  of  principle. 
I  will  instruct  you  in  my  old  way.  But  first  I  must  tell  you 
that  Audrey  is  positively  improving.  She  coquetted  the 
other  night!  The  floor  creaked,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  but  it 
bore  well;  and  she  did  it.  The  Trans-Euphratic  is,  as  you 
are  aware,  active  even  in  the  dead  season.  I  fancy  the  Trans- 
Euphratic  helps  Audrey.  There  are  similarities,  most  espe- 

376 


RECONCILIATION 

cially  in  a  certain  slowness  in  getting  under  way.  The  Trans- 
Euphratic  is  going  to  get  there.  An  American  engineer 
who  came  down  to  Barslett  the  other  day,  and  said  he  had 
always  dreamed  of  such  a  place  (he  was  sallow  and  thin), 
told  me  so.  Audrey's  going  to  get  there,  too.  Now  isn't 
she?  Don't  say  it's  labor  wasted! 

"  I  digress.     Listen,  then : 

"  Lord  B.  Do  you — er — know  a  Mr.  Airey  Newton — New- 
ton, Viola? 

"  Myself.  Very  slightly.     Oh,  you're  thinking  of — ? 

"  Lord  B.  I  saw  it  in  the  daily  paper.  (He  means  the 
Times — he  doesn't  know  of  any  others.) 

"  Myself  (hedging).  Curious,  isn't  it? 

"  Lord  B.  It  will  possibly  prove  very  suitable — possibly. 
As  we  grow  old  we  learn  to  accept  things,  Viola. 

"  Myself  (looking  young).  I  suppose  we  do,  Lord  B. 

"  Lord  B.  For  my  own  part,  I  hope  she  will  be  happy. 

"  Myself  (murmuring).  You're  always  so  generous! 

"  Lord  B.  (clearing  his  throat).  I  am  happy  to  think  that 
Mortimer  has  recovered  his  balance — balance,  Viola. 

"  Myself.  He'd  be  nothing  without  it,  would  he,  Lord  B.? 
(This  needed  careful  delivery,  but  it  went  all  right. ) 

"  Lord  B.  (appreciative).  You're  perfectly  correct,  Viola. 
(Pause.)  Should  you  be  writing  to  Mrs.  Trevalla,  express 
my  sincere  wishes  for  her  happiness. 

"  Now,  considering  that  Trix  knocked  him  down,  isn't  he 
an  old  dear  of  a  gentleman? 

"  But  Mortimer?  A  gentleman,  too,  my  dear — except  that 
a  man  shouldn't  be  too  thankful  at  being  rid  of  a  woman! 
He  showed  signs  once  of  having  been  shaken  up.  They 
have  vanished!  This  is  partly  the  prospect  of  the  Cabinet, 
partly  the  family,  a  little  bit  Audrey,  and  mainly — Me  !  1 
have  deliberately  fostered  his  worst  respectabilities  and  min- 
istered to  his  profoundest  conceits.  As  a  woman?  I  scorn 
the  imputation.  As  a  friend?  I  wouldn't  take  the  trouble. 
As  an  aunt?  I  plead  guilty.  I  had  my  purposes  to  serve. 
Incidentally,  I  have  obliterated  Trix  Trevalla.  If  he  talks 
of  her  at  all  it  is  as  a  converted  statesman  does  of  the  time 
when  he  belonged  to  the  opposite  party  (as  most  of  them  have). 

377 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

He  vindicates  himself,,  but  is  bound  to  admit  that  he  needs 
vindication.  He  says  he  couldn't  have  done  otherwise,  but 
tells  you  with  a  shrug  that  you're  not  to  take  that  too  seri- 
ously. 

"  Mortimer,  We  were  fundamentally  unsuited. 

"  Myself  (tactfully).  She  was.  (What  did  I  mean?  Sheer, 
base  flattery,  Sarah!) 

"  Mortimer.    She  had  not  our  (waving  arm) — our  instincts. 

"  Myself.  I  think  I  always  told  you  so.     (II!) 

"  Mortimer*  I  dare  say.  I  would  listen  to  nothing.  I  was 
very  impetuous.  (Bless  him,  Sarah!) 

1  "  Myself.  Well,  it's  hardly  the  time —  (Do  wise  people 
ever  finish  sentences,  Sarah?) 

"  Mortimer.  It  is  a  curious  chapter.  Closed,  closed!  By- 
the-way,  do  you  know  anything  of  this  Airey  Newton? 

"  Myself.  A  distinguished  inventor,  I  believe,  Mortimer. 

"  Mortimer.  So  the  papers  say.  (He  '  glances  at '  them 
all.)  What  sort  of  man  is  he? 

"  Myself.  Oh,  I  suppose  she  likes  him.  Bohemian,  you 
know. 

"Mortimer.  Ah,  yes,  Bohemian!  (A  reverie.)  Bo-he-mi- 
an !  Exactly ! 

"Myself.  Is  that  Audrey  in  her  habit? 

"  Mortimer.  Yes,  yes,  of  course.  Bohemian,  is  he?  Yes! 
Well,  I  mustn't  keep  her  waiting. 

"  That  is  how  I  behave.  0  limed  soul  that,  struggling  to 
be  free — gets  other  people  more  and  more  engaged!  Ten- 
nyson, Sarah.  And  when  they're  quite  engaged,  whether 
it's  in  or  out  of  the  season,  I'm  going  to  Monte  Carlo — for  the 
same  reason  that  the  gentleman  in  the  story  travelled  third, 
you  know. 

"  Oh,  I  must  tell  you  one  more  thing.  Running  up  to 
town  the  other  day  to  get  my  hair —  I  beg  your  pardon, 
Sarah!  Running  up  to  town  the  other  day  on  business  con- 
nected with  the  family  estates  (a  mortgage  on  my  life-interest 
in  the  settled  funds — no  matter),  who  should  shake  me  by 
the  hand  but  Miss  Connie  Fricker!  Where  had  I  met  Miss 
Connie  Fricker?  Once  —  once  only.  And  where,  Sarah? 
Everywhere,  unless  I  had  withstood  you  to  the  face!  And 

378 


RECONCILIATION 

I  don't  know  why  I  did,  because  she's  rather  amusing.  In 
fact,  at  your  house,  dearest.  Long  ago,  I  admit.  She  has 
come  on  much  in  appearance,  and  she's  going  to  marry  Beau- 
fort Chance.  I  know  she  is,  because  she  says  it — a  weak 
reason  in  the  case  of  most  girls,  but  not  in  hers.  Quod  vult, 
valde  vult.  (A  motto  in  one  branch  of  our  family,  meaning, 
'  She  won't  be  happy  till  she  gets  it.')  I  am  vaguely  sorry 
for  our  Beaufort  of  days  gone  by.  These  occurrences,  Sarah, 
prejudice  one  in  favor  of  morality.  She  has  gleaming  teeth 
and  dazzling  eyes  (reverse  the  adjectives,  if  you  like),  and 
she  has  also  —  may  I  say  it?  —  she  has  also  —  a  bust!  She 
says  darling  Beaufort  is  positively  silly  about  her.  My  im- 
pression is  that  darling  Beaufort  is  handling  a  large  contract. 
(Metaphor,  Sarah,  not  slang.  Same  thing,  though,  general- 
ly. )  That  man  wanted  a  slave ;  he  has  got — well,  I  shall  call 
on  them  after  marriage.  I  spoke  to  her  of  Trix  Trevalla. 
'  I  thought  she'd  quite  gone  under/  says  Connie.  '  Under 
wliere  ?'  would  have  been  my  retort ;  but  I'm  weakly,  and  I 
thought  perhaps  she'd  slap  me.  It's  as  pure  a  case  of  buy- 
ing and  selling  as  was  ever  done,  I  suppose ;  and  if  the  Frick- 
ers  gave  hard  cash,  I  think  they've  got  the  worst  of  the  bargain. 
"  What's  the  moral,  Sarah?  Not  that  it's  any  good  asking 
you.  One  might  as  well  philosophize  to  an  Established 
Church  (of  which,  somehow,  you  always  remind  me  very 
much).  '  Open  your  mouth  and  shut  your  eyes' — that's 
out  of  date.  Our  eyes  are  open,  but  we  open  our  mouths  all 
the  wider.  That's  superficial !  In  the  end,  each  to  his  own, 
Sarah.  I  don't  mean  that  as  you'd  mean  it,  0  Priestess  of 
Precedence.  But  through  perilous  ways — and  through  the 
Barslett  shrubberies  by  night,  knocking  down  his  lordship 
and  half  a  dozen  things  besides — perhaps  she  has  reached  a 
fine, a  fine —  Perhaps!  I  hope  so, for  she  had  a  wit  and  a 
soul,  Sarah ;  and — and  I'll  call  on  them  after  marriage.  And 
if  that  little  compound  of  love  and  mischief  named  Peggy 
Ryle  doesn't  find  twenty  men  to  worship  her  and  one  who 
won't  mind  it,  men  are  not  what  they  were  and  women  have 
lost  their  prerogative.  Which  God  forbid!  But,  as  my  lord 
here  would  say,  '  The  change  appears  to  me — humbly  ap- 
pears to  me — to  be  looming — looming,  Viola.' 

379 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

"  Fol-de-rol,  Sarah!  Scotland  as  misty  and  slaughterous 
as  ever?  You  might  be  a  little  bit  nice  to  Mrs.  Airey  Newton. 
You  liked  her,  and  she  liked  you.  Yes,  I  know  you!  Prt- 
tences  are  vain !  Sarah,  you  have  a  heart  1  J' accuse  ! 

"  Yours, 

"  V.  B." 

As  on  a  previous  occasion,  Mrs.  Bonfill  ejaculated 
"  Tut!"  But  she  added,  "I'm  sure  1  wish  no  harm  to 
poor  Trix  Tre valla." 

It  is  satisfactory  to  be  able  to  add  that  society  at 
large  shared  this  point  of  view.  It  is  exceedingly 
charitable  towards  people  who  are  definitely  and  final- 
ly out  of  the  running.  Those  in  the  race  run  all; 
they  become  much  more  popular  when  it  is  understood 
that  they  do  not  compete  for  a  prize.  There  was  a  re- 
vulsion of  feeling  in  Trix's  favor  when  the  word  went 
round  that  she  was  irredeemably  ruined  and  was  go- 
ing to  throw  herself  away  on  a  certain  Airey  Newton. 

"Who  is  he?"  asked  Lady  Glentorly,  bewildered 
but  ready  to  be  benevolent. 

"Excuse  me,  my  dear,  I'm  really  busy  with  the 
paper." 

If  Trix's  object  had  been  to  rehabilitate  herself  so- 
cially, she  could  have  taken  no  more  politic  step  than 
that  of  contracting  an  utterly  insignificant  marriage. 
"Well,  we  needn't  see  anything  of  him,"  said  quite  a 
number  of  people.  It  is  always  a  comfort  to  be  able  to 
write  of  the  obligations  that  other  folks'  marriages 
may  seem  to  entail. 

Mr.  Fricker  had  one  word  to  say. 

"  Avoid  her  virtues  and  imitate  her  faults,  and  you'll 
get  on  very  well  with  your  husband,  Connie." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  want  to  hear  anything  more  about  her," 
cried  Connie,  defiantly. 

His  pensive  smile  came  to  Pricker's  lips. 

380 


RECONCILIATION 

"These  little  fits  of  restiveness — I  don't  mean  in 
you— are  nothing,  Connie.  You  said  you  could  man- 
age him." 

"t  So  I  can— if  you  won't  say  things  when  he's  there." 

"I'm  to  blame,"  said  Flicker,  gravely.  "But  I'm 
fond  of  you,  Connie." 

She  broke  out  violently,  "Yes,  but  you  wish  I'd 
been  rather  different!" 

"Live  and  let  live,  Connie.  When's  the  weddine:- 
day?" 

She  came  to  him  and  kissed  him.  Her  vexation 
did  not  endure.  Her  next  confidence  amused  him. 

"After  all,  I've  only  got  to  say  'Trix,'  and  he's  as 
quiet  as  a  lamb,"  she  whispered,  with  her  glittering 
laugh. 

It  is  hopelessly  symptomatic  of  social  obscurity  to 
be  dining  in  London  in  September — and  that  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  and  not  by  way  of  a  snatch  of  food  be- 
tween two  railway  stations.  Yet  at  the  date  borne  at 
the  top  of  Lady  Blixworth's  note-paper  something 
more  than  a  dinner,  almost  a  banquet,  celebrated  in 
town  an  event  which  had  taken  place  some  hundreds 
of  miles  away.  Lady  Blixworth  had  blessed  the  in- 
terval between  herself  and  her  dearest  Sarah,  opining 
that  it  made  for  candor,  not  to  say  for  philosophy. 
Something  of  the  same  notion  seemed  to  move  in  Miles 
Childwick's  brain. 

"In  electing  to  be  married  in  the  wilds  of  Wales," 
he  remarked,  as  he  lit  a  cigarette,  "our  friends,  the 
Newtons,  have  shown  a  consideration  not  only  for  our 
wardrobes — a  point  with  which  I  admit  I  was  preoc- 
cupied— but  also  for  our  feelings.  Yet  we,  by  sub- 
scribing a  shilling  each  towards  a  wire,  deliberately 
threw  away  the  main  advantage  of  the  telegraphic 
system.  We  could  have  expressed  our  aspirations 


THE    INTRUSIONS    OF   PEGGY 

for  sixpence ;  as  it  is,  we  were  led  into  something  peril- 
ously like  discussion.  Finally,  at  Mrs.  John's  urgent 
request,  and  in  order  not  to  have  sixpence  left  on  our 
hands,  we  committed  ourselves  to  the  audacious  state- 
ment that  we  had  foreseen  it  from  the  first." 

"So  I  did  —  since  Airey's  dinner,"  declared  Mrs. 
John,  stoutly. 

"  A  delusion  of  your  trade,  Mrs.  John.  For  my  part, 
I  hope  I  have  something  better  to  do  than  go  about  fore- 
seeing people's  marriages." 

"Something  different,  old  fellow,"  Arty  suggested, 
with  an  air  of  being  anxious  to  guard  the  niceties  of 
the  language. 

"I  wonder  if  I  could  write  a  story  about  her,"  mused 
Mrs.  John,  unusually  talkative. 

"I  have  so  often  told  Mrs.  John  in  print — anony- 
mously, of  course,  because  of  our  friendship  —  that 
she  can't  write  a  story  about  anything,  that  I  sha'n't 
discuss  the  particular  case.  As  a  general  principle,  I 
object  to  books  about  failures.  Manson,  do  you  take 
an  interest  in  humble  tragedies?" 

"Only  in  a  brief  marked  two-and-one,"  said  Manson 
Smith. 

"Exactly!     Or  in  a  par  at  seven-and-six. " 

"Or  perhaps  in  a  little  set  of  verses — thrown  off," 
murmured  Arty  Kane. 

"Who's  talking  about  tragedies?"  called  Peggy 
from  the  other  end.  "Elfreda  and  Horace  are  splen- 
didly happy.  So  will  Trix  and  Airey  be." 

"And — I  am  sorry  to  mention  it,"  smiled  Tommy 
Trent — "  but  the  latter  couple  will  also  be  uncommonly 
well  off." 

"  The  only  touch  of  poetry  the  thing  ever  had  gone 
out  of  it!"  grumbled  Arty,  resentfully. 

"Listen  to  the  voice  of  the  Philistine!"  advised  Miles, 
382 


RECONCILIATION 

pointing  at  Tommy.  "For  the  humiliating  reason 
that  he's  generally  right." 

"No!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  John,  firmly. 

"  "That  is,  we  shall  all  come  to  think  him  right.  Time 
will  corrupt  us.  We  shall  sink  into  marriage,  merit, 
middle  age,  and,  conceivably,  money.  In  a  few  years 
we  sha'n't  be  able  to  make  out  for  the  lives  of  us  what 
the  dickens  the  young  fools  do  want." 

"Is  this  a  stance?"  demanded  Arty  Kane,  indig- 
nantly. "  If  the  veil  of  the  future  is  going  to  be  lifted, 
I'm  off  home." 

"Fancy  bothering  about  what  we  shall  be  in  ten 
years!"  cried  Peggy,  scornfully,  "when  such  a  lot  of 
fine  things  are  sure  to  happen  in  between!  Besides, 
I  don't  believe  that  anything  of  the  sort  need  happen 
at  all." 

The  idea  rather  scandalized  Mrs.  John.  It  seemed 
to  cut  at  the  root  of  a  scientific  view  of  life — a  thing  that 
she  flattered  herself  might  with  due  diligence  be  dis- 
covered in  her  published,  and  was  certainly  to  be  devel- 
oped in  her  projected,  works. 

"Experience,  dear  Peggy — "  she  began,  with  a  gen- 
tly authoritative  air. 

Miles  laid  a  firm  hand  on  her  wrist  and  poured  her 
out  some  more  champagne;  this  action  might  be  con- 
strued as  an  apology  for  his  interruption.  At  any 
rate,  he  offered  no  other ;  after  all,  Mrs.  John  was  ac- 
customed to  that. 

"  Experience,  dear  Peggy — to  adopt  the  form  of  ex- 
pression used  by  my  honorable  friend,  which  com- 
mends itself  to  all  sections  of  the  House  (you  mustn't 
laugh  when  you're  complimented,  Peggy !) — experience, 
dear  Peggy,  enjoys  two  significations — first,  the  things 
that  happen;  secondly,  what  you  or  I  may  be  pleased 
to  think  they  mean.  I  have  no  remedy  ready  on  the 

383 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF   PEGGY 

spot  for  the  first;  the  cure  for  the  second  is  very  sim- 
ple, as  many  great  men  have  pointed  out." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Mrs.  John,  rebelliously. 

"Don't  think  so,  Mrs.  John." 

"  What,  reconstruct  all  your  theories — ?" 

"  Now,  did  I  say  anything  of  the  kind?"  he  demanded, 
despairingly. 

Peggy  leaned  forward  with  eager  eyes. 

"Stopl"  interposed  Arty  Kane,  imperiously.  "I  will 
not  be  told  any  more  that  the  world  is  full  of  happi- 
ness. It's  nothing  to  me  one  way  or  the  other  if  it  is, 
and  there's  an  end  of  it." 

Peggy  leaned  back  again,  smiling  at  Tommy  Trent. 

"Any  other  point  of  view  would  be  ungracious  to 
our  friends  to-night,"  said  Tommy,  with  a  laugh.  It 
appeared  rather  as  though  it  would  be  unsuited  to  his 
own  mood  also. 

"One  thing  at  least  we  may  be  sure  of,"  said  Miles, 
summing  up  the  discussion  with  a  friendly  smile. 
"  We  shall  none  of  us  do  or  be  or  feel  at  all  approxi- 
mately what  we  think  we  shall.  You  may  say  what 
you  like,  but  there's  plenty  of  excitement  in  it.  Unless 
you're  dull  yourself,  there's  no  dulness  in  it." 

"  No,  there's  no  dulness  in  it,"  said  Peggy  Ryle. 
"That  is  the  one  thing  to  be  said." 

Would  Lady  Blixworth  have  echoed  that  from  Bars- 
lett?  She  would  have  denied  it  vigorously  in  words ; 
but  could  anything  be  dull  so  long  as  one  had  brains 
to  see  the  dulness  —  and  a  Sarah  Bonfill  to  describe 
it  to? 

Peggy  walked  off  home  with  Tommy.  Nobody  ques- 
tioned, or  seemed  inclined  to  question,  that  arrange- 
ment now.  Even  Miles  Childwick  looked  on  with  a 
smile,  faintly  regretful,  perhaps,  but  yet  considerably 
amused.  He  linked  his  arm  in  Arty  Kane's,  and  the 

384 


RECONCILIATION 

two  walked  along  the  Strand,  discussing  the  permu- 
tations of  human  feeling.  There  seems  no  need  to 
follow  their  disquisition  on  such  a  well-worn  subject. 
It  is  enough  to  catch  a  fragment  from  Miles.  "The 
essence  being  reciprocity — "  was  all  a  news-vendor 
got  for  his  offer  of  the  late  edition. 

"It's  far  too  fine  to  drive/'  Peggy  declared,  picking 
her  way  round  a  small  puddle  or  two  left  by  a  goodly 
summer  shower.  "  Have  you  plenty  of  time?" 

"Time  enough  to  walk  with  you." 

She  put  her  arm  in  his.  "So  that's  all  over!"  she 
said,  regretfully.  "At  least  I  don't  see  how  Trix  is 
going  to  do  anything  else  that's  at  all  sensational." 

"I  should  think  she  doesn't  want  to,"  said  Tommy, 
soberly. 

"  No,  but — "  She  turned  her  laughing  face  to  him. 
"When  is  something  else  going  to  begin,  Tommy? 
I  'm  all  ready  for  adventures.  I '  ve  spent  all  my  money — " 

"You've  spent—?" 

"Now  don't  pretend  to  be  surprised — it's  all  gone 
in  frocks  and  presents  and  things.  But —  Why,  you 
never  asked  me  where  I  got  my  necklace!" 

"  If  you  wore  the  Koh-i-noor  should  I  ask  you  where 
you  got  it?" 

"  Airey  sent  it  to  me  to-day.  I  refused  it  from  him 
before,  but  to-day  I'm  going  to  keep  it.  Because  of 
what  it  means  to  him,  you  know."  She  pushed  her 
cloak  a  little  aside  and  fingered  the  pearls.  "Yes, 
the  money's  all  gone,"  she  went  on,  rather  pleased,  ap- 
parently, "  and  there's  no  more  from  poor,  dear  uncle, 
and — and  Airey  Newton  won't  live  in  Danes  Inn  any 
longer!" 

Tommy  was  silent;  he  was  not  silent  altogether 
without  an  effort,  but  silent  he  was.  She  pressed  his 
arm  for  a  moment. 

*s  385 


THE   INTRUSIONS   OF    PEGGY 

"Will  you  be  promoted  to  Airey  Newton's  place?" 
she  asked. 

"But  why  only  tea?"  said  Tommy. 

She  waited  a  little  before  she  answered. 

"  What  should  you  say/'  she  asked,  at  last, "  if  I  ever 
changed?"  She  did  not  tell  him  from  what;  in  words 
she  had  never  told  him,  and  in  words  he  had  never  asked. 

"  I  should  wait  for  you  to  change  back  again,"  said 
he.  Was  he  the  man  that,  in  Lady  Blixworth's  opin- 
ion, the  situation  needed? 

Peggy  was  eager  in  her  explanation,  but  she  seemed 
a  little  puzzled,  too. 

"I  know  how  much  it  is  to  ask/'  she  said,  "and 
there's  no  bond,  no  promise  from  you.  But  somehow 
it  seems  to  me  that  I  must  see  some  more.  Oh,  there 
it  all  is,  Tommy — waiting,  waiting  1  Trix  has  made 
me  feel  that  more  and  more.  Was  she  all  wrong?  I 
don't  know.  Airey  was  there  in  the  end,  you  see. 
And  now  there  are  all  sorts  of  things  behind  her, 
making — making  a  background  to  it.  I  don't  want 
all  she's  had,  but,  Tommy,  I  want  some  more." 

He  heard  her  with  a  sober  smile;  if  there  were  a 
touch  of  sadness  in  it,  there  was  understanding  too. 
They  had  come  to  her  door  in  Harriet  Street,  and  she 
stopped  on  the  threshold. 

"I  sha'n't  starve.  You'll  be  there  at  tea-time,"  said 
she,  with  an  appealing  smile. 

His  man's  feeling  was  against  her.  It  was,  per- 
haps, too  much  to  ask  of  him  that  he  should  sympa- 
thize fully  with  her  idea;  he  saw  its  meaning,  but  its 
meaning  could  not  be  his  ideal.  He  would  have  taken 
her  now  at  once,  when,  as  his  thoughts  put  it,  the  bloom 
was  fresh  and  she  had  rubbed  so  little  against  the  world. 
The  instinct  in  her  and  the  longings  that  bore  her  the 
other  way  were  strange  to  him. 

386 


RECONCILIATION 

She  knew  it;  the  timidity  of  her  beseeching  eyes 
told  that  she  asked  a  great  thing — a  thing  that  must 
be  taken  on  faith,  and  must  try  his  faith.  Yet  she 
could  not  but  ask.  The  life  of  to-day  was  not  yet  done. 
Coming  now,  the  life  of  to-morrow  would  come  too 
soon.  Very  anxiously  she  watched  his  struggle,  per- 
haps with  an  undefined  yet  not  uncertain  apprehension 
that  its  issue  would  answer  the  question  whether  he 
were  in  truth  the  man  to  whom  she  must  come  back, 
whether  they  two  would  in  the  end  make  terms  and 
-live  as  one.  What  her  heart  asked  was,  Could  free- 
dom and  love  be  reconciled?  Else,  which  must  go  to 
the  wall?  She  feared  that  she  might  be  forced  to  an- 
swer that  question.  Or  would  he  spare  it  her? 

Another  moment  wore  away.  His  brows  were  knit 
into  a  frown;  he  did  not  look  at  her.  Her  eyes  were 
on  his,  full  of  contending  feelings — of  trust  and  love 
for  him,  of  hope  for  herself,  it  may  be  of  a  little  shame 
that  she  must  put  him  to  such  a  trial.  At  last  he  turned 
to  her  and  met  her  gaze  with  a  friendly,  cheerful  smile. 

"  Go  out  into  the  world  and  have  your  fling,  Peggy. 
Take  your  heart  and  mine  with  you;  but  try  to  bring 
them  both  back  to  me." 

She  caught  his  hand  in  hers,  delighted  that  she 
could  go,  enraptured  that  his  face  told  her  that  he 
trusted  her  to  go. 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered,  "  I  shall  come  back  with  both, 
because,  Tommy,  you  have  such  great,  great  faith  in 
me.  I  shall  come  back.  But" — her  voice  rose  again 
in  untrammelled  gayety — "but  go  I  must  for  a  little 
while.  There's  so  much  to  see!" 


THE  END 


BY  ONOTO  WATANNA 


THE  WOOING  OF  WISTARIA.  Frontispiece  Por- 
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ISTAR   OF   BABYLON.     Post  8vo,  Ornamented 
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